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Grown-Ups Just Being Grown-Ups

Grown-ups are screwed up.

At one point, they express their joy with such exclamation. Enthusiasm boils up in a flash. Their day yellow and bright and fruitful and productive from work and other shit children don’t care about. Then they treat you with great affection, transmitting their vibrant energies through warm bear hugs, and soft gentle kisses; then become proud of your achievements and whatever great shit you have accomplished in your life; then tell jokes that either make you laugh with sincerity, or force you to laugh out of respect for them.

Suddenly, they go berserk and become crazily angry at you. Their eyes wearing the look of doom, air rushing uneasily inside and out of their noses which look like that of a raging bull about to knock off its opponent. A bright red becomes slowly visible on their twisted faces, fists clenched, and, like a time bomb dropped in the air, only a moment away from exploding. They reprimand you for displaying such immature behavior, and judge you instantly without even considering to hear your side of the coin. But it doesn’t matter whether they hear your story or not. Either way, they will probably still be angry. That’s what they do.

Their pride swells up, and they become extremely self-righteous. They become impulsive asses, like their manipulative bosses. Always wanting things to go their way, always desiring to be rewarded with praise, obedience and respect (even if they don’t deserve them) at all times. They turn selfish, turning things into their favor for their own pleasure and refusing to think about other’s welfare. Because of that, they evade other people’s problem, as if it would make things any better. They’re so obsessed and busy about what they do that they have become superficial, blind and numb from the genuine pleasures of life.

Then, they become sad and regretful of their shortcomings and wrongdoings. They reach the realization that they are not, and will never be perfect. As a result, they undergo a sort of internal reform, a metanoia. They welcome their religion back in an instant, like how they call 911 when caught up in an emergency situation.

I want to grow up, but I don’t want to be a grown up. But it’s undeniably inevitable. I’m sure as shit I’ll be losing an irretrievable diminutive of my innocence each day of my life.

Oh, God forbid time to fly so fast.

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