When I was little, all I wanted was to be grown up. To be an adult. To have a grown up life. To do the things that grown ups were allowed to do. It all seemed like such fun.
Funny, at the time when people said to me "these are the best days of your life, enjoy them while you can," I did as I'm sure many others before me had done. I laughed bitterly and thought to myself... "yeh, what a typical grown up thing to say. You can't possibly understand what it's like to be me in my life." etc. etc.
Now, I wish i was 15 again. or even 20. Even at 20 you're not a proper adult. I wonder at what age that transformation from child to adult finally takes place. Obviously it's a gradual thing, but at what point did it suddenly become all about just coping with life day to day instead of enjoying it?
Being grown up is not all it's cracked up to be.
I can't sleep. I wish I could. Surely this is just the insomniac in me writing. Sometimes having too much time to yourself to think is not a good thing.