Today I came to a couple realizations.
When we are young, we cannot wait to have that moment that makes us an adult. We dream about how awesome it is to be older and have a car or a job. To have boyfriends and babies. Then the moment that happens, it usually doesn’t happen quite as swell as you dreamt it to be. That first kiss is usually awkward and heartwarming, but it ends in a broken heart and the feeling you’ll never be quite good enough. We start questioning how “normal” we are or if we’ll ever love again or be loved. Then we start wishing we were younger. Clueless to the world and all it’s poisons. Remember that? Remember how playing with barbies was the funnest thing we could do. Now we wish we are them. Changing ourselves to be perfect, beautiful in someone’s eyes, but our own. To own the perfect clothes and the perfect car. That perfect dream house in wherevertown.
Silly youth. Silly Adulthood.
How come there was no middle? Mid-ulthood?
I think I needed that.
Reblogging myself because Im feeling this lost again.