Mismatched Twins

kirai_slasher


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Growing Up
Mismatched Twins
kirai_slasher


Just some thoguhts I was having earlier, as I contemplated things in life, about grwoing up, and becoming an adult, and what it means. Maybe its not a real poem, but this is how it came to me.


Growing up is what they say it is.
They tell you about the big things,
growing boobs (the horror) and periods (even worse).
They tell you about learning responsibility,
going to school, moving away.

But it's like a dream, one that doesn't seem real,
even while you watch it happen.
And it does, it happens slowly though, so you don't really notice.
They don't tell you about the little things,
like waking up and realising that pink just really isn't that bad a color,
even if it's still not your favorite.
Or that dresses can be comfortable, useful, and stylish at the same time.

That cheerleaders aren't always the obnoxious bitches you thought they would be.
(even if plenty are)
Or that jock's can be fun, and smart, and nice, not just musclebound jerks.
(plenty still are jerks though)
That earings are something that can look good without getting in the way,
and that make up and make-overs can be fun.
That the best things in life aren't always in a computer or book.
(Pleanty are though)

That friends move on, and grow and change,
But that you can still count on them, and still make more.
That school really does never end, even when you think it does.
That true friends are rare, but easy to keep, once you find them.

Growing up is when you realise, you're leaving home.
Not for a party, or a trip. But that you're setting out on your own.
That it's time foryou to prove yourself.
That those letters you get, the ones from colleges,
the ones you were so proud of when you were 15,
are something important, your future.

It's about being a big sister, and looking down at your little brother for the first time,
and realising 'I have to protect him. I have to watch out for him'.
It's about chaning diapers, and making bottles, and helping out when you don't want to.
It's about giving up your share of the cookies and milk, because even though you want them,
there are more important htings, like little brothers smiling and happy.

It's resing the world isn't black and white, or even shades of gray.
Itr's every color of the rainbow, plus all the rest.
Holding judgement, and seeing underneath disguises,
and realizing people aren't always what you think they are.

But it's about other things to, the things no one thinks to warn you about,
the things no one thinks will happen.
Like waking up on your eight birthday to news about the Towers falling,
and people dying, and being scared. Could that happen here? Could that be my school?
My mommy? My family? Me?

About going to the cemetary every Father's day, to leave flowers and gifts, and talk to a gravestone.
About going back every holiday to talk to the grave of a man you can't remember, with only pictures
and people to remember him by.
It's about going to school, and tellign people all about how great your mommy is, but nothing to say about dad.
Dad who's been dead almost your whole life, but who you hope loved you, and still does.

About funerals and weddings, and parties and families
About people, good and bad, cruel and kind.
People who shun you for what you look like, yourname, you family, your culture.
People who love you for who you are, and stand by you through it all.
Friends, and enemies, and everything in between.

It's about complaining about your height, your looks, your weight.
Being happy, playing games.
Doing homework, cursing mean teachers.
Pursuing your dreams, even when you think you might fail.
Taking a step and hoping you won't fall.

Growing up definitely isn't what they said it would be,
But that doesn't mean they were wrong after all.
 



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