... And yet here I am.
I can't bring myself to concentrate, to remember Durkheim and Prout and James and Oakley and James Patrick and Mary McIntosh and Paul Willis and Kingsley Davis and-
The past couple of weeks were... Slightly chaotic, in a sense. It wasn't like I wasn't used to the pandemonium. I've been a student for more than a freaking decade, for heaven's sake. Exams and stress are like, a natural component of my life, even more so now. No, it was more like.. It was as if my thoughts decided to stop being numb and assault me mindlessly, pulling me in directions I didn't know I was capable of going.
Maybe it was due to the fact that I've been constantly told that I'm almost an adult, almost there, almost joining the terrifying world of adulthood. But funny thing was, I've been told this ever since I hit puberty. So does that mean the effect's gone? The so-called excitement and exhilaration of being called an adult, has it faded away?
Of course not. I'm not an idiot.
Just because I'm not working yet doesn't mean my innocence, my ignorance wasn't robbed long, long ago. Heck, I actually DID work before this. And no, it wasn't a family business whatever.
Where was I?
Ah. Being reminded of my entrance into adulthood constantly. Pretty soon, I'll be walking through those gates that so many have walked through, and wonder how far I'll go, how much I'll be able to handle, how deep I'll be strong enough to unearth.
And I wonder again, how much different it will look like seeing things from the other side of the wall.
I remember selling my extra stationery as a kid, just to earn some money to buy the food from the school canteen, so I had to take care of my only two pencils and one eraser and ruler and not lose them if I didn't want to risk my mother's wrath. And then I sold food with little toys in it as I grew older and met those who missed their childhood almost as much as I did and earned some more money. I remember feeling independent and proud, because then I wasn't troubling anyone. I was naive in thinking I'd help everyone, and to an extent, I did. But maybe, maybe I was the one who chipped away some more of that innocence that was hardly me.
And soon, pretty soon, I'll be let loose on the roads. More responsibilities. More expectations. More failures. More successes. Everything doubles, triples in size.
The mantle that I bear grows heavier with each passing day, and only through His grace that the yoke is bearable enough for me to go through today, tomorrow, another day. I'm not Supergirl. I've no cape, and kryptonite does nothing to me, but so many things less powerful brings me to my knees.
I can't be anyone's saviour. I'm not strong enough. I'm not kind enough. I'm not brave enough. I'm not selfless enough.
Let Someone else play the hero of the story.
