By Alia Hirji, Year 11
It’s funny how it seems so long when you’re taking steps forward in life. The distance is so far ahead. But when you look back and see how much you’ve traveled and progressed, you’re much further than the starting line.
I’ve always adored the idea of growing up. When I was 5 I wanted to see what it was like to be 10, to have double digits, and to be considered an older kid. When I was 10 I wanted to be 12, so I could get my first phone like my parents promised. I felt like I waited forever. When I was 12 I couldn’t wait to be 13. A teenager. Adults would take me seriously, I would be smarter, prettier, and better. When I was 13 I wanted to be 16. Sweet 16. Where everything is perfect like in the movies. I’m beautiful and get perfect grades with the perfect life. Now I’m 16. It’s not perfect. It feels no different than 15 or 14 or 13. But at the same time, everything has changed from 13 to 14, to 15; my looks, how I act, how I dress, my behavior, my friends, my brain. I still want to grow up and live in my narrative, my future, but I also want to stay in the comfort of where I am now. It’s safe. There’s no change. It’s my cocoon and I don’t want to go through metamorphosis yet. I know I’m taking steps forward as I write this, but it’s so slow, it’s safe. Thinking ahead feels like running, not taking steps. But something is thrilling about it at the same time.
I’ve always adored the idea of growing up. I want to be 18 when I graduate, and have my life figured out. I want to be 21 to be considered a proper adult, so people realize I’m not just a kid. I want to be in my late 20s to have my job and be successful. I want to be 30 when I have kids. I want to be the perfect mother and raise them the way I would want to be. But all of that involves growing up. Which I love the idea of. I hate the action of it. I hate it when it’s real. I like watching others grow up from the sidelines and admire their changes. Seeing it in myself is scary when all I want is to forever be a kid with no responsibilities, only hoping my mom will say yes to dinner at McDonald’s, that my dad will watch Star Wars with me, that anxiety doesn’t exist and that school is fun. I know that’s not the way it works. I want to grow up so badly. But I also want to stay in place, frozen, for longer. It’s going too fast. I want to stay in my cocoon for longer. Why can’t there be more time? Shorter, smaller, slower steps. I don’t want to run just yet.
It’s funny how when you’re taking steps forward in life all you want is to look back. To see the distance you’ve traveled. And to be proud of yourself, for the steps you took by yourself. But still so afraid of the next distances and obstacles. I can’t tell if I adore growing up anymore. I think I like the idea of it.
