I’m living my best life.
Freshly squeezed bitterleaf juice in one hand, thoughts of recent events in my head, and the soft melody of soothing voices from my radio kept me snuggled in the corner of my bed. I watched the rays of light that I hoped would touch my yellowing philodendron bounce off and on the multicoloured rechargeable torch on the window instead.
When I was a little girl, my whole world went at a pleasantly slow pace. It was endless days of wanting to be an adult. And the calmness and stability of that little world seemed to last forever. The hopeful days of waiting and the protection from my parents from what the world had to offer slowly faded away. They couldn’t shield me from them forever. And I couldn’t stop growing up at a rapid rate.
This is what I always wanted. But I’m not even yet an adult. I’m just one leg in and another out, and it’s already looking like, “Why is this world so fast?”
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