"....."
fifteen years old. neighbor's living room. "i don't think i'm going to live past twenty-three."
"you mean you can't picture it?"
no. but thanks for making me seem less suicidal. (i'm not.)
i don't want to grow old. nope. that's different than wanting to die, by the way. i'd freeze my life at twenty. (unless i'm married at twenty. *shiver* actually, nineteen.) every time i see someone so old that they can hardly get out of a car or up a curb, or into the kitchen for dinner, and every time i walk into deseret industries and smell that old smell, or that cloying perfume all of our grandmothers own, and every time i hear the old talk about family history, or them telling me "if i don't wear a coat i'll catch a cold" all i can think is how much i don't want to get there.
i like jumping on my bed sometimes, and swinging, and not putting little house on the prairie on the tv and muting it. i like wearing scents that aren't lavender (maybe that's just my own grandma). and i always hate myself for not wearing a coat, but really i've never gotten sick from that.
i don't want to be so out of touch with technology that i take classes on how to use it. (that's a real thing.) i don't want to groan in pain when i get out of bed (except mental pain, because waking up is hard.)
most of all, i don't want to lose fire. i don't feel lots of things i'm "supposed to" but the things i do feel are deep and rich. call it "hormones" or "disengaged frontal lobe," whatever, but it sure makes life better. spontaneity and tears from laughing so hard aren't bad things, and i'm afraid for the dullness that seems to develop with age. right now, everything is sharp and acute and piercing, sometimes in a negative way, but that's okay. in fact, that's good. at least right now i can listen to loud music and dance in my car even though that's not safe driving.
cheers to growing up, but not all the way.
