I feel too big. Like I occupy too much space. I am grown. A grown human, nearly adult. And I don't want to be an adult. I'm not ready for all this to be over. Everyone says they would never go through middle or high school again but I would, I really would. They were terrible times, but I'm not ready for it to be over.
And I'm aware of my body's size and it feels so overwhelming how large I am. I can reach the top shelf and don't have to stand on my tippy toes to get the secrets on the top of the fridge. The baby fat is gone from my face and I'm getting handsome. I don't want to be handsome. It's too much. I want to go back to throwing tantrums when my aunt called me cute. I want to go back to spelling like as lick and sitting in the seats of the shopping carts. And being small and feeling the immense size of the world.
I'm a culmination of my memories and I am proud of who I am and I keep trying to get better. I feel good about myself. Like everything I have experienced has led me to now, ready for what comes next. I did well. And they did well preparing me. But I don't want it to be over. I don't want to get older. Everything is so fleeting. Teachers have been with me for four years and they treat me so differently. I'm told she'll miss my face around. He says hi to me by name. She gives me her phone number with no hesitation.
They all look so grown up. And so do I. But I don't want to be. We can be separate. I wish we could be separate. 12 years, 12 years. Nobody understands what it feels like until they're here. No matter how much they think they may, they don't.
There's too much left to do and I'm not able to muster to do it at all. There hasn't been enough time. Spend another twelve years with my dogs and cats. Laugh with my dad. But instead I do other things and even though I still like them they make me feel separate and this is fleeting too. Everything is going too quickly.
