opera and juice boxes.

I feel as though I am growing older. Wearing glasses, watches, necklaces from boyfriends. Always having my car keys, room keys, debit card, credit card. College ID, driver's license. Textbooks, smart phone, forwarded emails. Sift through literature, listen to opera, work at multiple jobs. Argue about politics, write about religion, read everything uncensored. Listen to the news, think about the suffering. Have a fight, kiss and make up. Be a role model, use spell check, print resumes on nice paper. Own sensible heels, pencil skirts, sweaters, and dress pants. Appreciate poetry, chat with scholars, build relationships. Think about your future. Think about it more. Write about it. Write 20 pages on anything. Budget money, make money, spend money. Regret. Depression. Organization. Poise. Drive. Passion. Professionalism. Older.

I feel as though I am regressing. Taking multiple naps, watching Disney at night, eating lunchables whenever. Juice boxes seem like fantastic ideas. Carry backpack, wear tennies, jammies, and scrunchies. Wear rainboots when it's drippy out, keep your fuzzy socks dry. Vegetables are yucky. Ask your teachers zillions of questions, because it just seems too hard. Laugh. Feel pretty. Like to be kissed on the forehead, have my hair brushed, wear bows, be taken care of. Taken to the doctor. Daddy buys me paints. Block the world from sight, shut the window, watch a kid's movie. Hug the pillow. Sing do re me and play kum bay ya. Tee tee ta. Make funny faces at people in cars. Be told what to do, again, and again. Giggles. Curious. Fear. Slow down. Uncertainty. Slouch. Trust. Regress. 

Life's colors are deeper and more complex than anticipated.