Adulthood, just charming.

Did you always want to be grown up while you were young? To be taken seriously, to not be answerable, to not have to ask for that extra cookie, or get someone else to buy you something you’ve always wanted?

Yup we all did. But, I’m wondering is it normal for those of us who were in such grave hurry to hang our diapers, wanting to take to the pacifier again? Have somebody else make the decisions for us. Especially the hard ones. Why didn’t anybody tell me growing up was not about being able to eat pizza when its not the weekend, lying in bed for those extra minutes in the morning. It was not about going to the movies on a working night, or about being able to step out of the house without telling someone, even if it was a trip to the grocer. It was not about late night phone conversations or the sleep overs. Growing up was simply not the bed of roses it looked like and I’d appreciate if somebody had told me that.

No one said you’d be accountable for your actions. Those that you make. And even those that you don’t. You’d be responsible for not only yours but one day, somebody else’s actions too.
I’ve had a fortunate & sheltered life, thus not much to complain about. But one of the trivial things that did bother me was curfews, not being able to stay out longer, or talk to boys, or wax. Like my other normal friends. Never imagining that there would actually come a day when the choice to stay home, in front of the TV for hours watching episode after episode of my favorite escapism, in solitary confinement, would be a choice I made.

I for one was in a big hurry to grow up and not be accountable to anybody. And as I grew up, others stopped questioning me. But with that, a new search started within, empty answers with no questions. And this was all with me, which made it even more difficult.

It does feel good to be able to do everything that makes you happy. But you’re also the one responsible for bringing the tears. I’m not sure if I would be so uncomfortable pinning someone else as a reason for my miseries. Not that it’s a very grown up and mature thing to do, but making choices for yourself can be hard and the excess baggage cant be paid for.

I believe you don’t make choices out of experience but experience comes from the choices you make. But here’s the hard part, sometimes even experience can’t stop you from making the same mistakes again.

You’re responsible for the friends you make, for the people you fall in love with, for the hearts you break. Even those that break yours, you choose them!
I hated it when my dad would just say ‘no’ and the conversation was dismissed. Somehow being resentful made things easier. But ever since things changed to ‘it’s your choice and you have to make that decision’, it sucks, because suddenly I’ve become responsible for the outcome. The good and the bad. Some you learn to live with, some you learn to let go. But you mostly try and learn as you go along.

However, there is this one thing that hasn’t changed with growing up. I still like surprises, especially if they have to do with a birthday party. There’s no shallowness in equating the number of people on the guest list to the number of presents I’ll get. That’s a choice I’m happy to make.