I feel it all
Tell me a story. Write me a novel, or give me a single sentence, one word. Give me a comment and see if I can figure it out. Tell me of your love, your hate, tell me you don't care.
Confess to something you're proud of, admit to something you're ashamed of. Tell me your deepest secrets, or tell me something you think I should know about you and don' ( Read more... )
At the same time, I think I'm growing up. I guess part of that is accepting people, and I'm trying. And shockingly, I'm succeeding, though not without a grimace on my face half the time.
I've resisted growing up for so long. But now that it's actually happening, I sort of wish I had already moved past this. I wish I'd had all these experiences at a younger age. I don't know how I would've handled this stuff -- this stuff most people go through as young teens -- when I was a young teen. I don't know if I could've processed it without becoming more sheltered and cynical and hermit-like than I am now. But I really wish I were already an adult at this point. I already know I'm never going to grow out of wearing hair bows and wanting a swing set, and I think that those childish things are what I was clinging to. Now that I know I can still be an adult without giving up the kid in me, I wish I had accepted the other adult business -- relationship complexities, mostly -- much, much sooner.
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