I was blog walking among my classmates blogs and I came across a line that made me think. Something along the lines of, maturity is what a person experiences not the number of birthdays passed. I know almost everyone thinks that I've a mind of a rather young and child-like girl and I liked to think that I actually never grew up. But then again there was so much emotional growth and love and hate that maybe, just maybe I'm just trying to shield my heart from further heartache with a facade. I realised that not many kids my age went through the kind of childhood I did. I had no sibling that I could talk to and share my sorrows with, even when my sister came around; she's just a mere baby then but a bundle of joy anyway. She definitely did not take the path that I did. Thankfully. I loved my childhood but at the same time, I hate it. So much drama. I thought secondary school would be riddled with intense drama but it's just mundane like now. I'm now stuck in yet another constricted box that I can't seem to escape from. I cry myself to sleep sometimes, thinking about things that I regret doing or not doing, things that I could have done better. Over-thinking, another fatal weakness of mine.
Maybe next time, I'll face people I've yet to meet with my mature side. And I hope they are strong enough to take it.
I run from reality because I know I'll always be within its grasp.
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