musings and whatnots

i am a kid.

i said to myself as if it were inherently everything i'm not. when did i get so forgetful? i was suddenly in such a hurry to grow up and grow out of the magnificent innocence that possesed children to see what adults have been blind to--a small pool of water rather than a puddle of mud and dirt, a blessing of food rather than calories that would lead to flab and additional hours to the gym. an endless cycle of a boring routine that lacked what was somehow necessary--fun. weren't there days and nights i have laughed (immaturely but) triumphantly because i broke the rules and had a good time with my friends? weren't there moments that i would have given anything to experience them again not because of regret of the things i failed to do but because it was just so great and perfect?

i am a kid, i assured myself, as i tried to count as much cars and trucks at one in the morning, on a roadtrip to somewhere-else-where-we-could-all-study-better. i guess we drove for miles, i didn't know. and i didn't care that i got home at four-thirty. or that i slept in less than three hours time and went to class despite my wanting to sleep some more. or that i had an exam after that.

because at that time, i was happy. i was happy being a kid.