Note to Self

You’re five years old. School just started and you don’t realize the long journey ahead. Days are long and naps are still necessary. You walk around in your mom’s high heels, Trying on her red lipsticks, and dancing through her perfume. She is everything you want to be when you grow up. Soon you’re ten years old. No one understands you and school is beginning to drag on. Homework is a burden, but mom and dad insist on you doing it. Sports become a safe haven; Mia Hamm your idol. You sprint around at practice and live for the games. She is everything you want to be when you grow up. Suddenly you’re fourteen years old. You’re stuck in a circle of friends who are not like you. They are nasty to others. You become someone you’re not. You hate it. You hate school. You feel trapped in a sick world where no one knows what it’s like. You want nothing else but to grow up. You realize you’re eighteen years old. You want nothing else but to go back. To treasure those moments you never did, the ones that you saw as insignificant. You think of all the things you should have said, should have done. And to think that this is what you once wanted. You want nothing else but to stay young. It’s odd, the lives we live. Wishing to grow up so fast, but regretting our wish once we get there.