There are times when I wonder how old you think you are. So professional and mature and introspective, ready to salvage what you can of situations gone awry. Everything is there except the right motive. The only reason you do it is to augment what you see inside.
Cry on your pillow and then wear your big girl heels. Write "soul searching" poetry and then mince words with your parents about curfew. You're almost an adult. What the fuck does that mean.
It means you want people to take you seriously whenever you open your mouth, and what's more, agree. It's time for other people to acknowledge and accept your flaws because you are an adult. You're fully formed and what better way to show it than screaming out to the rest of the world "I'm better than you!".
There's a difference between policy and practice and much of it is the same between opinion and fact. There's some more maturing left. You bash enough adults to know that. Maybe this will be a cycle of being built up by your own perception of intelligence, importance, composure, and charisma. I almost hope it is, because it will be a brutal day when it hits. Your eyes don't sparkle like you think they do. You're not as tall as you think and not everybody wants to be around as much as you want to be around everyone.
It's okay though really. You aren't that bad and getting better. But please. The next time you lok in the mirror, do it without makeup.
No this isn't about you.
