On my way home I was thinking to myself, have I grown up? In my mind I am still a child, who answers to the name of Ana, a child whose cries would ring out through the night, resonating within the walls of my prison. A child who still rattles the bars of her cages crying for someone to unpick the lock. A child who's being forced to put on a dress and perform for her parents.

I feel like I've been kicking and screaming that I just want to be stuck there being young forever but somehow I've been dragged and forced to grow up. Suddenly 12 years later I'm here, begging not to grow any older. Has anything changed? Hardly. I still perform in a play, I still cry for someone to unpick the lock.

Eighteen, eighteen, I can hardly believe it. Everything is happening so fast. The world is revolving, life is being thrown at me, and I'm being forced to take responsibilities, forced to live, forced to fend for myself. It's just so sad because I feel that I have too much in my arms right now and I don't know how to go on from here. It's like highschool and you've just discovered boys. It's like being abandoned in a desolate place and given a map for you to find a way home. It shouldn't be difficult considering I have been living most parts of my life by myself. But being an adult is like, asking a caveman to live in new york! I just want to be young forever. I just want to sit here and not grow old, I wish I could just sit here and roll down a meadow field and swim naked in the sea.

Anyway, I've decided that from this day on, I will live for my own dreams.

That should be the first step to growing up, isn't it?

Labels: growing up, letting go