Reality Escaped Us Before We Learned to Breathe

When you are seven and running through the lanes in your neighbourhood,

You are grown.

You are your own boss and no one can tell you what to do.

Well, except your parents but other than them no one has the right.

You'll feel stifled when they tell you that you're not allowed,

They will have the audacity to tell you that you're not allowed to visit your friends

And you'll want to scream and cry that it is unfair.

But you don't.

Because you are grown and the world is yours

And nothing can make you unhappy.

When you are eleven and going out with your friends,

You are grown.

You are in charge of your own destiny and you allow no one to get in your way.

Well, except your parents because you just can't seem to get rid of them.

You will choke down words of anger and hate when they tell you no.

You will curse their entire bloodline out of hatred…

Which honestly makes no sense considering the fact that you are a part of that bloodline... but still,

You do it because you are hurting and there is no other way you know to express it.

When you are thirteen and you can do sleepovers with your friends,

You are grown.

You are the main character in your story and no antagonist will get the better of you.

Well, unless your parents count as antagonists, then they will definitely stop you.

You will shout mean words that you don't actually believe.

Doors will slam with the ferocity of hurricane winds and you will cry.

You will cry in the stifling silence of your bedroom as you choke on your feelings

And nothing will look the same anymore.

When you are sixteen and you stay out late with your friends,

You are a child.

You are the one who takes careful steps so that you will not be destroyed.

Well, unless you completely cut yourself off from your parents, you will be totally fine.

You will softly whisper stinging insults and apologize in the same breath.

Your body will contain a fragile essence that brings tears to the eyes of those around.

The longing of a disappearing childhood will stifle you.

When you are eighteen and about to move out like your friends,

You are a child.

You are the adult who wishes they never had to grow up so soon.

Well, your parents wish that you were still that kid who slammed doors some days.

You are more quiet now than ever because an era is over.

You choke down the pleas to go back to when everything was familiar.

You choke yourself on silent tears that never seem to touch your cheek.

When you are eighteen and smiling at your friends through tears

You are grown.

You are grown because you are still seven underneath.

You still ache for freedom even when you are with your friends.

You are eleven and cursing bloodlines because there is no more restriction.

You are free and it is foreign and there is no safety net.

You are thirteen and your friends hug you when you lay next to them in bed.

They understand because they to miss slamming doors to get just a bit of attention.

You are sixteen and it hurts you all.

There is no one there waiting for you all to enter your houses on late nights.

You are eighteen and it is only now that you are grown.

You wish that you were anything but grown.

-Maisha E