One sweltering Saturday morning, I knew I grew up.
It was not because I pressed my back against the wall and marked a new line.
Two inches taller.
It was not because I made my own breakfast.
Scrambled eggs and soy chorizo.
It was the day when I came home from school and nobody asked me how my day went.
It was the day when at school I heard my friends whisper who knows what
about my body, my clothes, my face.
It was the day when the boy I liked for six months, one week, and three days had finally kissed me.
It was the day I got an F on a math test.
I LOVED math!
I knew I wasn't a kid anymore because when you're grown up nobody cares about those things.
Nobody cares about the cute guy in your class.
They don't care how you're dressed.
They don't care that you fail sometimes.
They don't seem to care about anything.
But I need to know somebody cares.
When you're a baby the slightest scratch is tended with love.
As if that scratch could take away your life and love is the only medicine that can heal your wound
If growing up is not caring about the details and fast forwarding through life.
Rewind.
Go back to the time when toddlers were learning how to walk and were the biggest stars shining light on your broken grown up life.
I’m still a baby.