I don’t want to get older.
I want to stay a kid and still be able to dive into my mom’s embrace even though I did something wrong and am supposed to be reprimanded for it.
I want to stay a kid because no one stares at you when you cry, it’s totally normal for a five-year old kid to cry but not someone turning seventeen in a week.
I want to stay a kid because everyone would take pity on you and look after you.
I don’t want to be 17. I don’t want to accept the fact that in a year I’ll be an adult and alone and supposed to face the full onslaught of the brutality of the world now.
I don’t want to be an adult because they all hide their tears as if it’s a weakness. People look at you strange when you cry, the older you get.
I don’t want to learn to file taxes. I don’t want to count paychecks.
I want to stay a kid forever, and be protected from all that.
But I can’t. And that’s the true brutality of the world. We don’t get what we want. And I don’t get to be happy, turning 17.
