The Art of Growing Up

I haven’t written a single blog post all summer, and the thought keeps wiggling in the back of my mind, so I decided to sit down today and write about what’s on my mind. Namely, how fast time is flying.

You never really notice something when you’re in the midst of it. It’s only when I look back that I realize how much has happened and how much I’ve grown intellectually and emotionally. I don’t really understand this whole “growing up” thing. It’s like one day you’re a kid blowing bubbles in the front yard and the next day you realize that you’ve only got a couple more months before you have to start applying for colleges. That’s where I’m at anyway.

I’ve had mixed feelings for growing up; it’s not exactly neutral, but I’ve never associated the term with just good or just bad. As I’ve aged, I’ve felt my patience running shorter, and I have to be more conscious about prying my mind open wider to new opinions. It’s not something I’m proud of, especially considering I can be extremely stubborn sometimes.

I wonder if this really is a part of growing up, or just me becoming more anxious about the future. I’ve come to understand that there is no point where a middle-aged person turns into a wise elderly overnight, and all that knowledge and experience really does take time to accumulate and formulate in one’s mind.

Sometimes I’m in a such a hurry to grow up because I expect better things to come as an adult, but other times, I’m in a hazy mist of nostalgia for my childhood. I crave independence, spontaneity, and the prospect of infinite possibilities; I miss innocence, long-lost keepsakes, and the carefree nature that comes with being a kid. It’s the ultimate paradox that can never be solved – unless, I decide to just be content with where I am and accept that growing up may not be such a bad thing after all.

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