What is it to you,
A piece of paper with words on it.
But to me a photograph of my thoughts,
As they flit across my mind.
But to me a way to record what I remember of these darts,
Flying across a canvas that has been overwritten time and again,
And I can’t discover anyone,
What has already transpired.
So to me,
A memoir it becomes of vague phrases and sentences trying to make sense.
To you, just a sheet of paper,
To me, the beginning of everything.
Allusion: Amazon Original: The Beginning Of Everything
No one prepared you to grow up. As kids, what we have always wanted is to grow up so that nobody snatches the TV remote from us as we watch our favorite shows on after the another with no one to admonish us or to keep our binge in check. Our wallets shall be stuffed at all times with money that will have us helping ourvelves to all the candy in the world.
What I grow up, I am not going to school anymore!
Nobody prepared us for this.
Our elders hoped we’d blossom into beautiful human beings but we haven’t. At least not yet. I don’t know why it is taking us so long to belong to this humanity.
Strange how the hype around growing up seems such a sham once we are there as adults trying to make ends meet and comfortably settling into a routine.