Help…

peter

Today it hit me: in a couple of years I’m going to be expected to live on my own. In a couple of years it won’t be okay that I’m living with my parents or that they pay my insurance. In a couple of years I’m going to be expected to pay rent, buy groceries, make my own car/phone/insurance payments, start my career and get a real job. In a couple of years I’m going to be expected to start “settling down”, finding a husband and planning a family. In a couple of years people are going to start asking me who I voted for and what my stance is on this or that subject. In a couple of years I’m going to be expected to know what’s going on in the world and why gas prices are so high. In a couple of years I’m supposed to know how to cook my own meals… in an oven. In a couple of years it will be my responsibility to stay in shape, not my coach’s. In a couple of years I’m supposed to know what I’m doing with my life.

I’m not ready. I can’t be an adult because, frankly, I’m not grown up enough for it. I still cling to Disney movies, pillow forts, hide ‘n’ seek, knock-knock jokes, and coloring books. The idea of a pack of crayons and a card board box still excites me. I still dream of the perfect tree house and the day I can sled down an ice cream mountain. All these years I’ve kept my window open, hoping Peter Pan would take me away to Neverland, but he never came. I’m not ready to grow up. I’m not ready to make decisions. I’m not ready to be responsible. I’m not ready to live alone. I’m not ready to make extravagant dinners for one or many. I’m not ready to go to my high school reunion. I’m not ready to settle down with the love of my life. I’m not ready to buy a house and pay bills and mortgages. I’m not ready to care for children and watch them grow older. I’m not ready to watch my grandparents die and my parents take their place in nursing homes. I’m not ready to see the wrinkles form on my face and hands. I’m not ready for the day my body tells me I can’t run anymore. I’m not ready to take pills with every meal. I’m not ready to say good bye to the ones i love. I’m not ready to die.

On my sixth birthday, I cried. I cried because I didn’t want to be older, I wanted to stay a little girl forever. I still want that.

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