Everyone has a moment when they realise. I didn’t think mine would be on a unseasonally-cold Tuesday evening in August; I didn’t think it would be — or, on the fae of it, want it to be — anytime soon, to be perfectly honest. Still, I think I have realised now, and once you’ve realised, you can’t really go back.
Realised what, though?
When you realise that you’ve grown up, that innocent childhood and care-free summers are over, and that life gets serious from here on bitch…
* Channels inner Britney “You’d betta work bitch” *
Maybe mid-teenage naivity is leading me astray: a mid-teen crisis, during which I think that my childhood is over, wouldn’t be especially out of character for me; I love a good crisis I do. Nevertheless, I think I’m right, and I don’t know how to feel about it, honestly.
Looking ahead to the next year, I am beginning to realise that I’m doing ‘grown-up things’ (GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER): important educational examinations, moving out of home for college, volunteering/delivering presentations at events, looking after a dog fulltime — this isn’t child-like any more. this is real, grown-up, and … strange.
But I kinda like it.
I write fairly frequently of a burning desire inside of me — a desire to cling onto care-free childhood and youthful naivity for as long as humanly possible, to live my best life young, whilst I still can. But that flame doesn’t burn as hot any more, not as bright as before. Something else is taking over: a calmer yearning for the real world — to be grown-up, mature, and independent. Carelessness is suddenly less attractive: something of the past, which was fun while it lasted, but not something to be relived. And believe me — it was fun while it lasted: metaphorically dancing through life, free from worry, free from trouble — free from anything that couldn’t be squeezed into a box, have a lid slammed on it and could then be forgotten about for an indefinite amount of time.
On a literal level, I feel more grown-up: suddenly, i’m thinking about banking, saving for college, using a debit card. Nowadays, I seem to think differently: more practically, abandoning my “it will be fine probably hopefully” approach, replacing it with a more realistic planning system. I mean, come on — I’ve just applied for a railcard! If that’s not grown-up, what is?
But, the odd thing it, it doesn’t feel unnaturally adult-like — far from it, in fact. it used to; trust me, I used to feel so out of my depth, it was laughable. Now, though, it just feels … normal, sensible, and necessary. But, again, I think I like it.
Am I making any sense? Am I spouting crap? I don’t even know any more, but writing all of this down has definitely helped.
And that’s a good thing, I feel.