I was 11 years old when I decided I was never going to grow up. I was actually quite a serious kid from about the ages of 7-10. My mom recently told me a story about when I was 8 or 9, she was on the phone with my 3rd grade teacher, who heard me laughing in the background…and was surprised that underneath the seriousness I actually had a sense of humor! By 11, I’d learned a little bit about playing and enjoying life again. And by my perception, I’d wasted a childhood. I was conscious of this feeling like time was running out, that I was well on my way to adulthood and the future looked bleak. I was curious about what it was like to be an adult and every adult I spoke to talked about a life of work, household chores, and then not having enough energy to do anything but sit in front of the TV. They didn’t read. They weren’t growing. They were complacent. In my 11 year old mind- they were boring AF. I remember thinking even back then that this was a fate far worse than death. So I’ve chosen not to grow up. But I HAVE chosen to grow. I’ve kept my promise to my 11 year old self. I play now in much the same way as I did then.
I’m not a grown up in the way I once dreaded. Because I’m always growing.
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