I've had a revelation. I am no longer a senior in high school, I am no longer a minor and it is no longer acceptable for me to live in a blissful oblivion to the world's problems.

High school is an obtrusive landmark in an American teenager's life. In Santa Fe, it is a particularly out-of-reach landmark, considering the graduation rate and normalcy associated with dropouts. Hearing my name read out loud over a sea of square hats and teary-eyed families was a moment when my spine straightened itself out, bolstered up with a pride in myself.

With a diploma and a multitude of funny little accessories and medals, I entered the world of high-school graduates and legal adults. It feels wonderful and amazing and unreal, and the thousands of congratulatory wishes I've received have made it clear that the path I have followed so far in my life is an adequate one. But what next? The first decade of the 21st century is closing and the world is far from perfect.

Being 18 years old in 2010 is full of antitheses. I can assure my mom that I'm being fed well every night by the click of a few buttons, but there are millions of people who never know the security of consistent meals. I can fly across the world to visit my second family in Denmark, but oil is choking innocent life underneath the plane's wings. I have friends and acquaintances with myriad skin tones and accents, but people are murdered every day on those same grounds.

I attended high school out of sheer lack of anything better to do, accompanied with a certain thirst for knowledge. At Santa Fe High, I crept through the system, looking for ways to challenge and discover myself, together with and apart from my peers. I took AP classes, I joined the band, I ran on the cross-country team, and I wore my ID when it was demanded. Though I took a year off to study in Denmark, my high-school experience left me satisfied and confident.

I don't know how to solve any of the world's problems, but my solutions for now are awareness and empathy. While I live basking in the freedoms and carefree values of a young adult, my thoughts often turn to the future and my duties in it.

I will be off to college next year, to continue my passion for brain-cramming. I will never escape, however, from the problems that plague the world I have come of age in. I would love to assure the previous generations that the world's problems will be solved by our generation, but I have no right to predict the future.

I have no problem allowing myself to dream of the future. I have grown up in a situation where acceptance and diversity have been endlessly encouraged, so that it is near second nature for me to allow everyone I meet to start off on the same footing. I have not grown up in particularly trying circumstances, where I have to fight to get what I need. I have, however, grown up being forced to face reality. Not only reality TV, but real reality. I may be more privileged than others, but I know it, and don't feel satisfied living in that unbalanced position.

My generation has grown up with constant bombardment from vibrating cell phones and TV ads to Facebook notifications. The way we do things is new and different, but we are very much alive and active. We deal with the periodic changes in our online social networks, and we accommodate for when our cell phones go out of service. The world may not be entirely safe with us, but it will go on.

Lucy Ohlsen is a 2010 Santa Fe High School graduate. You can reach her at limefreak44@cybermesa.com.