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A place where grown ups live

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I always get a bit agitated when my birthday is coming up.

Not because I mind getting older. Age looks good on me. I'm not afraid to admit that. 

But because I put pressure on myself. To grow up. Let me rephrase that; to finally grow up. And to figure it out. Whatever it is.  

I still spend many days feeling like a little girl. I still ask for permission to do things. Grown ups don't ask permission. They just do. Right? 

But I don't. I wanted to make a decision last night and I couldn't. My mind went blank. And then I was stuck. Again. And I wanted to ask for help. But there was no one to ask but myself. Because it's a decision I have to make myself. Because I'm considered an adult. 

So on the run-up to my birthday I frantically search for something to help take me from child- to adulthood. I'm searching for inspiration. Because inspiration doesn't just appear suddenly, you know. You have to find it. 

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You spend your whole childhood dreaming of the days when you can make your own decisions. The days when no one but yourself can tell you what to do. The days when you can go to work wearing a tiara. Or eat cereal for dinner. Or not clean your room. Or just do whatever you want, whenever you want.

And then you grow up and realise that nothing is that simple. If only it were. There are these things called responsibilities and considerations. You can't just do anything you want whenever you want. That would be irresponsible. And the world is against irresponsibility. 

You have to find a balance. There's always a balance. A thin line you have to walk. Never overstepping. A place between rational and irrational. Responsible and irresponsible. A place where grown ups live. A place where people adult properly.

I am constantly overstepping the line. Making a mess of myself, I either take a step too big, too small or none at all. And instead of trying again I get defeated. I curl my fingers to a fist, lie on the ground and throw a fit. Like a child. 

I may claim to be many things, but graceful is not one. 
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So every year when my birthday approaches, I start to become agitated. Because every year my age signifies even more than ever before; adulthood. And with that comes many expectations to adult properly.

And every year I'm getting better at faking it. I've put on the clothes of grown woman. The high heels, the dress, the makeup and done up my hair. Sometimes I can even sound like a grown up. I throw out a big word and impress even myself. But when I look in the mirror I see a 5-year old playing dress up in her mothers wardrobe. 

This year, what i want for my birthday is to grow up. But not too much. Never too much. Just enough for me to not feel like I have to ask for permission anymore. Or at least, permission from anyone but myself. 

And then maybe next year, instead of feeling agitated when my birthday approaches, I can feel excited. Or whatever it is a grown up feels about their birthdays.

Agitated, a little voice in my head whispers. Grown ups feel agitated about their birthdays. Children are the ones who feel excited about them.

Well, at least that part of me has grown up then. Now I'll just sit back and wait for the rest. 

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