Emotional Whims On Late Nights

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Maturing is an inevitable part of life that we always dread. But, when it happens, we find we can live with it. Sometimes it's evident that you are slowly becoming more mature. Decisions can be made, growing up doesn't seem so bad, leaving and living as our own individuals is actually ideal. Everything's all good, right? But, if course, there is the other side of the spectrum. There are those of us who mature so much so quickly that we aren't even aware. More often than not a somewhat traumatizing event is the culprit of this life shattering crime. Once it's happened, there is no going back. Though you are surrounded by others your age, people from and in your generation, your bit of space on the giant clock of time, you aren't with them. You're with those you can never be a part of, because they will always be older, higher up, in a different head space and whatnot. You know you can walk with them, talk with them, commune with them, be with them, and yet your age is what stands in the way. Where your head and heart are only matter so much. What is always seen is the date on your birth certificate. You know you can read things and see things and deal with things like those above you, but your age makes them underestimate you. "I understand!" you scream. "I know!". But no one listens. No one cares about that. You are stuck dealing with those who haven't grown up, the immature and frustrating people you love but can't connect with. You long to be with those you understand, who understand you. But at the end of the day it all comes down to one thing:

What is the date on your birth certificate.