GROWING UP

They say you have a choice. You should always keep the kid alive in you, they say. Then, they ask you to grow up.

All I wanted when I was a child was to grow up. They seemed so sophisticated, the adults. So happy with the independence that my own version of life seemed even more little in front of theirs. That awful lot of fun, that uncensored way of living. Yes. All I wanted was to grow up.

Somewhere amidst the tantrums and dislikes, the unwanted dolls and tennis, the marathon and the glucose, the library and the laughter, I grew up.

For the world to tell me that I needed to ‘act’ responsible, to balance the sum of their irresponsibility.

For people to stare, jive and pass judgements.

For heartbreaks that would shatter the insides.

To grow accustomed to vanity and aesthetics, lies and escaping.

To learn the things I never wanted to.

To unlearn happy endings.

To soak up misery like a sponge.

To not be alone, yet be lonely.

To live because it is required to do so.

Why did I ever grow up?

6 was such an amazing age.

The stars to look at with many hopes in the eyes.

And friends who would stay by forever.

No worries in the world.

No responsibilities.

No heartbreaks.

Why did I ever want to grow up?

There’s still more of it left to do.

Portfolios to make and jobs to find.

Currency to cash in and a car to drive.

I DON’T WANT TO GROW UP.

I would rather be irresponsible. And crude perhaps when I want to be. Dull as it may get at times, I would rather be here. Because growing up is so not my thing.

I AM NEVER GOING TO GROW UP.