Years have a funny way of sneaking past you when you're busy fishing the last cherry out of the jar, and they take that conviction that you know what you want right with them.
If only you had thought to get less absorbed with that cherry, eh?
Now I'm 18; I'm an "adult", whatever that's supposed to mean. Although I still whinge to my mother when I get a cough or a bad grade in a class, so I don't know what all that growing up nonsense was about. What I do know is that now, even if I still feel like the kid that asks her mother for permission to go out to lunch or skip the greens tonight, I'm not. I have a bank account, a conviction that without-the-condom-sex is better, and a bikini top. I eat alone, sleep alone, fly alone, and spend alone. I have a purse, for chrissakes.
But now that I'm all grown up, I've come to the conclusion that there isn't all that much to it. What they say about the "magic" of childhood yadda yadda ya is actually true. You grow up and boom, you're buying fat free dairy products because that bathroom scale has somehow turned on you. Lunchables go from a coveted break from real food to a ridiculously unfulfilling pile of pawns moving forward in the game of heart disease. And it's not just food - hell no, that would be too easy. Suddenly you have to wait for a sale so that you can buy anything without feeling like you've cut your fingers off of your hands and the light left on downstairs is somehow now YOUR concern. Nobody will tuck you into bed anymore either, so good luck to you if you never got over that fear of the dark...or the moany attic above your bedroom. Its just as well you don't believe in ghost stories.
If only you had thought to get less absorbed with that cherry, eh?
Now I'm 18; I'm an "adult", whatever that's supposed to mean. Although I still whinge to my mother when I get a cough or a bad grade in a class, so I don't know what all that growing up nonsense was about. What I do know is that now, even if I still feel like the kid that asks her mother for permission to go out to lunch or skip the greens tonight, I'm not. I have a bank account, a conviction that without-the-condom-sex is better, and a bikini top. I eat alone, sleep alone, fly alone, and spend alone. I have a purse, for chrissakes.
But now that I'm all grown up, I've come to the conclusion that there isn't all that much to it. What they say about the "magic" of childhood yadda yadda ya is actually true. You grow up and boom, you're buying fat free dairy products because that bathroom scale has somehow turned on you. Lunchables go from a coveted break from real food to a ridiculously unfulfilling pile of pawns moving forward in the game of heart disease. And it's not just food - hell no, that would be too easy. Suddenly you have to wait for a sale so that you can buy anything without feeling like you've cut your fingers off of your hands and the light left on downstairs is somehow now YOUR concern. Nobody will tuck you into bed anymore either, so good luck to you if you never got over that fear of the dark...or the moany attic above your bedroom. Its just as well you don't believe in ghost stories.
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