Pimples n All.

It was a simpler time. Zits, heavy music and neon shorts. MTV and cassette tapes. K, cassettes were never cool but what about those brand new things called compact discs?

What is it about a good childhood that makes us as adults wish to, if only for one day, to float back to where the stress of life was non-existent, back to the youth we once knew? Meanwhile, those were the days of wishing we were older. Mature. Adults. On our own. Not having the slightest clue of what awaited us. That which would pounce on us. Afflict us. Wound us. Abandon us. Addict us. Damn near kill us.

Whenever one of my girls speaks of wanting to be an adult, I prit near spank her on the spot. I wash her mouth out with a tide pod and tell her to recite “The Giving Tree” by one Shel Silverstein. I take her to the local soup kitchen and have her watch, aghast, at the slew of kids that couldn’t figure it out. Then, I take her to McDonald’s and buy us 2 happy meals, each. To wrap the daddy date, we get matching tattoos. #kidz4lyfe.

I need those summer days with no labor to be had. No alarm to wake me and set me out amongst the rush hour loonies. I want the 711 run thrice a day, intermingled with chilling with friends, watching movies and staring at the cloud animals. I want to make money to have fun with it, not as a means of survival. I yearn to get into trouble without any real long term repercussions.

When were these days taken from me? When was that moment I turned in my careless existence for a life of stress, hard work, massive responsibility and over all exhaustion, all in the name of getting older? Maybe this is why I was such a hooligan in my later teen years, as though I knew what I was quietly slipping into. The innocence of today stolen and violently replaced with bills, mortgages, child care costs and an addiction to alcohol. The stillness of lying in your teenage bed, falling asleep to your Walkman exchanged for a repeated broken heart, eviction notices, childs paralysis and horrible credit.

The scales of life are never balanced. Nothing is fair and even when it seems that way, you’re losing. The house always wins. There is no greener to your other side. Them there bills won’t pay themselves.

Facts, all of it. And another fact is you gotta get over it. Truthfully, who wants the acne of yesteryear? Who wants to be living under moms roof again, following moms rules and eating moms food? Ok, the food, yes. Ship me some. But where we’re at, though stressy and scary at times, is a fantastic world with no walls or ceilings. It really what you make of it and even though I’ve spent my first third of it somewhat wasted or so it feels, there are great things in store for me and those sticking around as my closest peeps! It has already begun.

Adulthood really sucks. But then so did yesteryouth. Just make the best. Kapeesh?


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