On being young, immature and childish



I’m young. Not young enough to be considered a child, but young enough to be able to use my age as an excuse. I’ve made mistakes and many have been blamed on my age. I’m a child, I’m immature and many would even say I’m childish. I don’t deny this. I believe in this perfect world, which means that even the smallest bit of injustice hits me with full force. The smallest lies, the silliest promises broken often leave me in tears. I can’t deal with grownup issues. I don’t know how to save money, or rather, I don’t understand why I need to. I don’t see why I shouldn’t let the bus conductor or three wheeler driver keep the balance. I don’t see how buying books I may never read is a waste of money.


I am often too emotional. I don’t keep my feelings in check. When I’m lost in thought, I don’t think about ending poverty or taking part in the next revolution. Instead, I think about seemingly simple things. Puppies, friends, memories, happiness.


Things that really annoy me are simple too. People who leave strands of hair in sinks of public bathrooms. People who spit on the roads. People who smoke. People who have no manners.


And things that make me angry are liars, cheaters and people who hurt others.


Being childish and young also makes me want to complain about anything and everything. I complain about so many things. But I don’t take these complaints to the big guys because I don’t think I should put people in trouble. If it gets unbearable, I will talk to the person concerned. Most often, I just deal with it, by talking about it, or writing about it.


And words. Words are what I love the most. However, words, they are also what keep digging my grave deeper and deeper. Words, they create a heaven for me. And they create a hell too.


Love. Love gives me strength. When I turned sixteen or even eighteen, I’m sure my parents would have been worried. They may have prepared themselves for those requests to go for late night parties, to meet boys and go on dates. None came from me. I never go for parties, never to clubs, never to have a drink or two. I’ve never dated or ever wanted to. I was the girl who was never asked out, the girl who was liked by no guy. And I have no problem with this. I mean, I’m still young, too young to deal with relationships.


And yet, when words get me in trouble, when I’m too childlike to deal with the world, I feel this loneliness. I feel the need to fill the tiniest bit of empty space in my heart; the space for love.


So I miss having someone special I could run to when the world becomes too dark. Someone who would buy me flowers. Someone to defend me.


And since there is no one, I keep walking away from the problems I cause. Not because of the flight or fight theory. I don’t fight, simply because I don’t think I can defend myself. But I don’t run away either. I don’t run away from issues. Instead I distance myself from people I don’t like, and from the people who don’t like me. I distance myself from places that feel like enemy ground, where I’m not happy. Instead of complaining and kicking up a fuss, I just walk away.


It hurts to do so. To leave ten people I love because of one person I hate. But it’s easier than fighting, arguing and making things even more unpleasant.


I know I can’t always do this. I’m young enough to be blamed, to be shouted at. I’m young enough to be told that I’m always the wrongdoer. But I’m also young enough to walk away.


However, a perk of being young is that I can easily love. Easily find happiness. At least, the temporary kind. So I will continue to love; people and words. I will continue to find ways to be happy. And when I’m too tired, too exhausted, I will walk away. I won’t complain. I won’t ask for a grand farewell. I will just walk away.

I don’t want to leave a mark, in this world, in the lives of people I know. I want to be kind of person who is so insignificant, they aren’t missed. And for now, I can believe that it’s possible to live a life that leaves no marks.


It’s not easy being young. You don’t think twice before you say something or do something and people always watching you. However, being young isn’t something that lasts forever, just like the exhaustion that comes with being young. By now, you may be wondering where this post is going, what it’s supposed to be mean. However, this is just a rant, a stream of thoughts. Being young is like this, there’s a journey, but you never know where this journey will take you. There are words here, but these words didn’t tell you anything specific.


However, the following words will tell you what I wanted this post to be about.


I’m young. I don’t always apologize. I think I’m right. I make mistakes. I say things without thinking twice. Don’t hold these against me. Because someday (soon) I will grow up. I will stop being young, immature and childish. And then I’ll understand, I’ll realize and I’ll know. For now, all I ask from you is some patience.

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