No, adulthood doesn’t come with loudspeakers asking you to grow up. I have realized that growing up doesn’t make sense. What is mature and what is immature? We all are children in the ways that we live. We don’t know what we want from life. We act, without thinking. Does growing up mean to give up on the seemingly abstruse risks? Or is it about leaving behind the belief in magic and the consolation of hope?
I have realized that there is no grown up. No adults. We carry our childhood with us more than we can ever comprehend. Growing up, they say, means to shun that naive trusting habit, to erase the simple innocence. Growing up, I say, doesn’t make sense.