#growingupishard

[aleciel]

021025 (17) [seventeen in five days]

i'm so sorry to my sixteen. sorry i spent too much time wasting. sorry if i hated on you too much for being an even number age. sorry, sorry & sorry but i'm learning to apologise less. sorry i refuse to talk to you. sorry i cried too much and it seemed you were mean to me when it was mayhaps the other way round. i love you and i hate you. i hope to see you again in a dream. (stay) good bye. (give me another chance, i swear)

[evinbe]

@uberfacts #growingupisoptional #oldernotwiser #growingupisoverrated #growingupishard #grownupish #youngatheart❤️ https://www.instagram.com/p/CRsOUQEjv5X/?utm_medium=tumblr

[relunch]

Roland's. #Growingupishard. https://www.instagram.com/p/BqsgbkmDpA5/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ybsu91e92298

[samianneart]

Day 12... Vampire. But this one’s a bit personal. My little muse had a moment this morning at school where her heart was broken. #growingupishard #mommyandme #vampire #mabsdrawlloweenclub #mabsdrawlloweenclub2018 #ottawaart #ottawaartist #inktober https://www.instagram.com/p/Bo2MK8QBcnf/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ggifgty2im0c

[moirin]

Being a depressed adult child is tough

Okay, here’s this thought that has a few degrees of scariness, which can vary depending on the mood I’m in. Sometimes it doesn’t seem frightening or even somewhat important at all. The other times it scaries the shit out of me. The thought is: “I cannot (for the love of my life) imagine myself getting old.” That’s it, plain and simple. Like there’s no future in which I can live a life long enough to grow old, and get all the things old people get. Like, grandchildren, a small orchard of my own for some quiet, peaceful life of a good old hag. Like there’s no way I’ll ever be able to even produce children (and therefore we cannot even speak about grandchildren). I just cannot picture myself having even the shittiest and loneliest existence of an old person. There’s no possible future for me at all. There is neither a happy, nor an unhappy option. There are no options whatsoever.

I’m not a millenial, I’m a child of early of nineties, fully adult now. A person who has lots of responsibilities and considers themselves able to deal with all the crap life has prepared for them. But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could stop thinking so much.

[thetremendouslywisecollection]

Do you ever just feel like throwing a tantrum for no apparent reason just to get a good cry and feel better because you have no idea what's bothering you?

[appalachianheretic]

Getting Older

Nostalgia is like looking through an open window. I can see another life, another me, but at point in time where I felt so much more unsure of everything than I do now. And, somehow, I remember reveling in it. It was a peculiar type of freedom, but it was mine. I was both free to choose and terrified of choosing, but I was glad that the decisions were mine, and only mine, to make.

So many aspects of my life have changed, but I have embraced each twist and turn that I wrought . I have risen to every occasion worth getting out of bed for and worked through every moment when worry creeped up my back and rested like a heavy winter coat upon my shoulders. A part of me says that the worry, the trepidation, the loss of creativity--that this is “growing up" and I am supposed to take the break in the current with haste. But sometimes I wonder, how would my view change if I had chosen differently in a single moment? If I had not taken the break in the current?

I keep reminding myself that I have so many hopes for what is to come that I cannot keep coming back to what was--to that same window. Each time I do, I find that I lose a small part of myself in the "what ifs?" "What if I had went to another college?" "What if I hadn't married him?" "What if I hadn't said 'no'?" "What if I had kept writing?" "What if I had never told her to take that job?" "What if I had met him for lunch?" "What if I had stayed?" "What if I closed the window and walked back to the mirror?"

Pondering on the “what ifs” does not leave me with regret. My life is beautiful, joyous, and of my own volition in the fiercest way possible. Yet, I still grieve all the lives that I will never be able to live--all because of a dozen, single choices made. Despite all that I loved about the feel of the sturdy beam of wood beneath my hands and the chipping paint that left cloud-white flecks of stars on my fingers, I will close that window--softly, and with a prayer that the past does not hear enough to know I was ever looking back. With my heart whispering sweet goodbyes in my chest, I will return to the mirror, and dust off the neglect.

I wonder what new beginnings I will see in my two wild, bright eyes.

[batmanology101]

#Gotham #GrowingUpIsHard