home           about           blog           archives           domain           exits           ask

Growing pains.


It's such a depressing word. From the way the long o curls into a lingering l and suddenly halts into a harsh, concrete d, the tangibility of its gloom is undeniable. Sure, age is just a number, with age comes wisdom, age is just a state of mind -- but nonetheless, it is a reality we all deal with albeit in different ways. And maybe I'm just not at that point where I'm ready to embrace being an adult yet.

Lately, I've been sleeping with thoughts of growing old on my mind, wondering how far (or how little) I've gone from the innocent little girl that I was. I'm not usually bothered by my age, and in fact I hardly ever think about it, unless the -Ber months start knocking and I'm forced to count down the days before my birthday. (That's just how my mind is wired when it comes to that day.) But for some reason, it's as if these thoughts have been finding their way inside my mind, disrupting me in my silence and resonating even in the noise.

Have I really been growing up, or just growing old?

We'd all like to believe that as our days become years and years become history, we get better at dealing with the situations life throws at us, especially at this time in our lives where we're no longer kids and we're practically adults. We laugh at petty high school cat fights, and snicker at unnecessary crush drama. We shake our heads in disbelief over our angsty, emo pre-pubescent tween phase and deem our ignorance tragic. We're smarter and better than that. Why? We're eighteen! We're in college! We're old! We know what we're doing! We're free! We're mature! We know better!

I guess it's ironic how it's also these statements that we use as excuses for all the other times we stop being smart and just start acting like the complete opposite of what we think we are: kids. I'm eighteen, I'm old. I know what I'm doing. And yet, we don't.

Every once in a while, the mistakes of my past come flashing right before me as if purposely saying how stupid I am for thinking I did what I thought was right. Just when I start believing that I'm getting better at handling myself in situations, the past comes knocking and makes me feel otherwise. And, adding insult to the injury, they come just when things are perfectly okay. It's unfair -- it's in the past and it shouldn't have a place in the present, much less the future. And yet it will find a way to haunt you and follow you. It's unfair -- because during that time, you just thought it was the right thing to do. But it is only later that you will realize it wasn't. It's unfair -- because just when you think you're doing fine, everything shatters to pieces.

It's during these times when I can't help but wonder: Have I really been making the right decisions? Am I really capable of judging what should and shouldn't be done? How do I really know which is the grown-up thing to do?

Sometimes, I still wish I was still a kid, when all the stupid mistakes I did are excusable by innocence, and all the things I said are caused by my ignorance. I still want to have the liberty of acting immature just because I don't know any better. It's overwhelming still that right now, there is just no one else to blame for all the mistakes I've done but myself.

Maybe the only grown-up thing to do is suck it up and learn from it. Deal with it by yourself. But then again, I think the better thing to do to go get a tub of ice cream, watch Toy Story, and get a hug from someone again and again until it feels better ;)

P.S. My Enemy aka best friend Hope Velasco just started her own blog! Hmm. Grown-ups should have better avenues of expressing themselves other than FB statuses, and blogs provide just that. Haha! I love you, Enemy!