When I grow up...

I am 24 years young and the world (my family and married friends, to be precise) thinks I am getting old and have to get hitched and settled and do all the things boring adults do. I felt something was wrong, like how you keep trying all the keys in the keyring in your jammed cupboard door but none of them seem to open and you know that's not plausible - one of them has to work!

So I felt an annoying, frustrating feeling without actually feeling it. It was simmering somewhere beneath the surface of languid laziness that life had become.

And then, one thoughtful layer at a time, I peeled off to the crux of the matter. It had been resounding in my head every time I watched Disney channel and laughed along with Alex on Wizards of Waverly Place, every time I made plans to study further - study something drastically different from what I had been doing so far, every time I'd mistakenly check out schoolboys thinking they were older to me and then realise I was showing symptoms of pedophilia. I followed Justin Beiber on Twitter until I felt he was too old for me - too grownuppy. I realised it when I heard about young teenage achievers and told myself that I'll do something similar when I am their age.

Until then, until I reach my teens or grow up or whatever psychologists and adults have named that phenomenon where people get old and boring and then forget their life revolves a little bit around themselves also, I will enjoy my childhood.
I will watch cartoons after cartoons.
I will pout my lips whenever I am miffed, and I don't mean the Angelina Jolie pout, or even the Mallu porn film one.
I will stomp my feet in anger.
I will throw tantrums. Sometimes, I might even throw a brush or two.
I will respect junk food.
I will sing silly songs.
I will write silly songs.
I will dream about life ten years down the line when the knight in shining armour is just polishing his armour and thinking about coming my way.
I will not let my friends'and relatives' babies call me an aunt.
I will secretly think babies are creepy tiny adult human beings.
I will chop my hair off.
Go on adventures. And if there is not one anywhere in the vicinity, I will go on an imaginary one.
Cos babe, as long as you have a wild imagination, no shit can smear your face or pants, and best of all, it won't even leave a stinking smell behind.  

 I can't wait to grow up. No child can. 
But like all children, I never will.
A special thank you to the quirky, awesome people in my life who are the nitrous oxide in my chamber of mental conundrum.