Now, Not Later

introduction

.

.
.

I was always the good kid. My parents told me I was always mature for my age. They were proud of me.

When I was little, I used to relish in that fact. I could hang out with the big people. The parents. It seemed like a secret club that I was automatically part of; a different world that I was permitted to experience.

I was exuberant.

Now, I wonder about my maturity. Yeah, I've got it. But I think it took away my childhood too soon. I should be able to make stupid mistakes, break my bones, fight over something stupid. But instead, I think things through, I'm cautious—a critical thinker.

This might come handy later in life—when I'm old and actually benefit from it—but for now, it's annoying as hell. I feel like I'm missing out on something.

A wiser person would say something along the lines of, “well, you'll appreciate it later.”

But that's the thing, isn't it? It's always for preparing for the future. The later. Not the now.

I want my now. I want my broken bones and stupid mistakes. I want my childish nature of innocence and irrational thinking.

Where did my now go?