Image From: Matthew Ball @unsplash.com
Turning 20 is a massive step in anyone’s life. It’s the beginning of a new decade and the turning point for your young adult life. Though I don’t want any part of it.
I’m sure 15-year-old me would have loved the idea of growing up, especially since he was living in a house with little-to-any love. He probably would have gone on and on about becoming a marine biologist and would often brag about the idea of getting into some ivy league college. He just didn’t understand.
Growing up and moving out takes money, and that also means you have to find some way of obtaining said money. Whether that’s through a job or jobs; and yeah I included the plural of that, especially in this economy; nevertheless, it’s your job to put a roof over your head.
That’s just the start, if you find a place, you’ll need to pay bills, utilities, wifi, cable, and groceries. If you drive to work, you have to pay for gas, upkeep, inspections and insurance. Not to mention paying insurance for yourself, your house or children if you have them. It’s all a repetitive task of robbing Peter to pay Paul.
Do you ever miss the simplicities of being a child?
Do you remember the many times your family would have company over, and they’d all be talking about “adult things”; so you take you and your Nintendo DS upstairs to play. Of course, until you heard your mom yell “dinner’s done!”
Do you recall the comfort of coming out of school and seeing your parents there to pick you up, so you run to them with full force, only to be met with “How was your day, baby?”.
Do you miss having crayons and glue sticks on your school supply list? Do you miss the magic of seeing a movie in person with your family? Or going to a water park? Or being picked up and taken inside because you fell asleep in the car? Do you miss any of that?
Cause I do. I miss it terribly, it’s like aching for a time that doesn’t exist anymore, yearning for a place that isn’t real, and craving a love you never got.
My childhood had it’s ups and downs, and it was far from perfect. As much as my parents said they loved me, I was never allowed to cry without running the risk of being hit. I wasn’t allowed to have my own opinions because “they’re the parent”. Some of my dolls were thrown away because they were black. My pacifier was ripped from my mouth and cut up; they threated to shove it down my throat if I didn’t stop using it. My own mother threatened to kill me herself when I told her I was depressed, and that’s only a few things that they’ve done to me.
My biological father died when I was 9, and ever since my mom’s been with involved with terrible men.
She ended up marrying one of them, and I could call him my step-father, but I could also call him a waste of space. He’s mean, selfish, and narcissistic. He’s called me a failure, dirt and more. Though, my mom doesn’t care, she loves him. She loves him even though he calls her a useless cow, she loves him even though he’s cheated multiple times, she loves him even though he’s the reason I hate myself. And sometimes, sometimes in the middle of the day, out of nowhere, I can hear the echoing of him calling me a failure. He still lives with us to this day, that’s why I choose to live on campus.
Though no matter how far I go, I can still hear his voice.
So yeah. Turning 20 is so great! Turning 20 is so cool! Not as cool as having a loving home. Not as cool as having loving parents. Not as cool as growing up in a home where you felt safe and welcomed. But, what can you do? Unless you have a time machine I could borrow, I’ll be turning 20 soon. Even though, I don’t want any part of it
