It’s funny how when you’re a child, you spend everyday dreaming about becoming an adult. When I was a child, that was my number one problem. I needed to become an adult, so I could do so many things. I wanted to wear make-up. I wanted to have money. I wanted to paint my toe nails. I wanted to be in the University. I wanted to talk to boys without hiding. I wanted to get married. I wanted to have children. I wanted to live alone, have a job, and be in charge of my life. I wanted to grow breasts and have my period. I wanted to go out at night and party till dawn. I wanted to be an adult and not be forced to go to bed at 9:00 PM. I wanted to stay up till dawn. That was my problem: I just wanted to be an adult.
I Wish To Go Back…
August 16, 2009 by 31 Comments
So now, I’m an adult. I have not accomplished some of those dreams, but I have accomplished most. I have a drawer full of make-up. I can paint my face anyway I want it, and I have gotten quite good at it, if I do say so myself. But sometimes, I don’t even feel like doing it. I have money – compared to how much I had when I was a child. But I’m still broke. It’s like the more I have, the more I need. I paint my nails any color I wish. Lime green. Hot pink. Turquoise blue. Whatever floats my boat. But nail polish color is no longer an issue. Who cares the color I paint it?
I am in the University. Sometimes, I feel like dropping out. Too much driving. Too many assignments. Too much stress. I can now talk to boys any time and anyhow without anyone complaining. The problem is that I don’t want to talk to boys. Boys are no longer an issue. Been there, done that. Next ===> I am not married yet, but I still want to be married. Perhaps, I obsess over it more and more – largely because it is an obsession I have grown to fancy. Either that or my booming-career obsession. Oh, there is also the one about going to an all-you-can-eat suya joint. I do not have children yet, but I already have plans for them. I’m already taking notes on how not-to raise my children. I have a job, but I don’t live alone. I can’t actually afford living alone at this time, but if I could, I wouldn’t. That’d be one more ish to worry about.
I am in charge of my life, but I’d rather not be. I’d rather relinquish the charge to God. It doesn’t feel so good being in charge of myself. Too many responsibilites. Too many things to think of. So I’d rather have God do all the thinking while I do the living. After all, He is able. I am not. I have obviously grown breasts – way bigger than I even imagined (need a picture?), and I now see my period – sometimes twice a month! This Ms. Flow that I used to cry and wish for, I now wish she’d not come so often. Wearing a pad for five days and having blood gush out from between your legs in not very comfy. Too graphic, I know. Sorry. It doesn’t help that my waist feels like it’s vibrating when Ms. Flow is around.
I can party at night – all night – till dawn, and I get tons of invitations to do so, but suddenly, it doesn’t seem so appetizing anymore. I’d rather just go home and climb into bed. I can now stay up till dawn (instead of sleeping), but I’d rather not do so. I find myself begging for sleep. Right now, my eyes are a little red. I ought to be sleeping, but it’s the third day, and Verastically Livin’ must be updated. *singing* Sleep, sleep go away… come again another day …
little big Vera wants to write.
These days I have new worries: money – I’m broke… I need money to do this and that. School – I’m tired of it. Wanna graduate already. Too many assignments here and there. Work – don’t feel like going. Would rather sleep in. Career – when will it take off already? Will it ever take off? What if it doesn’t? God, I don’t wanna be a liability on my future husband. Husband – that’s another thing to worry about.
Aaaahhhh…. what I would give to go back to being a child. I just want to worry about obtaining the permission to paint my toe nails any color I want to. Want to go back to having a hot pink plastic lunch box with a pretty Jasmine Princess designed on it, packed full with a sandwich (or a little plate of fried yam/plantain) and a box of ribena. Want to go back to assembling in the school hall and reciting how and why children should be in school by 7:30 AM. Want to go back to my canary yellow blouse and grey skirt uniform, completed with an extremely white pair of socks and a pair of brown sandals. Oh, and the hair too. Who can forget the weaving hair styles? The “chookoo,” the “police cap,” the “upside down basket,” and my personal favorite, the “love come down” style.
Ah… the days of sheer bliss!!! JJJ