You want to scream in frustration, stomp your feet on the ground, storm out of the room dramatically, and slam the door on your way out. Basically throw a tantrum your younger self would have been proud of. But you don’t. Instead, you sulk quietly in a little corner of the room, ignoring everyone else’s attempts at talking to you. It’s more mature than throwing a tantrum, but not by much.
But maybe that’s the problem. You don’t want to be mature. You don’t want to grow up, go to college, get a job. You don’t want all that responsibility to pile onto your shoulders, weighing you down. You miss the way your parents used to make every little decision for you, and you want those carefree childhood days back. Those days when independence was some far-off concept on the horizon — not something as imminent as around the next corner.
You frequently hear others your age talking about annoying parents who hold them back, parents who don’t trust them to make their own decisions, parents who don’t want to give them the independence they so crave. But that is exactly what you want. You hate making decisions, especially when they can affect the lives of so many other people. You’re terrified that some decision you make can ruin someone else’s life. You don’t want other people relying on you when you know that you can’t even take care of yourself.
People always assume that intelligence equals responsibility. They like to think that if you’re smart, you’re also responsible. And that pisses you off. Because then they pile all the work on you, assuming that you can handle it. And you hate it, you hate being responsible for other people. But you do it anyway, you do everything with a smile on your face and you never let any complaint pass your lips because you’re scared and terrified of everything life has to offer. You don’t want to cause a fuss, stir up trouble. You don’t like making decisions, and you don’t argue against theirs because you hate conflict.
You suppose all these feelings are part of growing up, but you don’t want to grow up. Never ever. You just want to stay in your little bubble forever, ignorant to all the woes of the world. You wish you could just grow wings and fly, fly far far away to Neverland where you’ll never have to grow up. Somewhere where life is carefree and there are no problems and everything is easy.
But you can’t. So you just stay in your little corner, curled up into a ball, and you sulk. You know that you’ll have to grow up one day, but not today. Today, you are content to act like a child.
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I wasn't sure where a piece like this would go: would it qualify as a short story, or does it belong here, in Other? Anyway, reviews and critique are much appreciated. c:
an I can relate to the last part NICE... I hope I can write that good