Sometimes I remember being normal... The ice cold taste of a juicy Popsicle on a hot day, not just any hot day, a day where your hair sticks to your neck and even the air smells sweet with the beauty of summer. With the beauty of youth, Waiting on uncle to get back home but not thinkin to much about it because you're having fun. Until you're not... Until you've grown up and the air no longer smells sweet but clammy and humid and stressed when shouts from your grandmother to come home for supper turn into your mom telling you to grow up and monitoring your every move. Growing up doesn't decrease your problems like all children dream... Growing up increases them crushing childhood hopes.