i’m not a noodle though

when i was little, i believed that becoming an adult would be like an instant noodle kind of situation. i’d turn 18, maybe fumble for a bit, but surely with just a tiny bit of patience (not too much of course, even 4 minutes was way too long) i’d come out victorious; a well cooked grownup.

i imagined that it would be a caterpillar-butterfly type of transformation. i was done with being a caterpillar; small and insignificant stuck chewing on gross green things all the time rather than the nice colourful sweet stuff. just like the butterflies and their flowers. i couldn’t wait to emerge from my cocoon.

i truly believed that one fine day i would just wake up all wise and mature, endowed with the incredible ability to do as i damn well please.

now, as an ‘adult,’ i finally see the truth, and little me would have been appalled. nobody knows what it means to be an adult. nobody wakes up, enlightened the way i once thought. in fact, it’s quite the opposite. the older i get, the more lost i feel.

i feel like i’m faking it. i don’t think that little me would have believed it if she were told that everybody here is fucking clueless- that most people simply spend their lives trying to perfect the art of pretending.

and as an ‘adult’, i can finally see, that little me was so lucky. she knew what she wanted and she was so sure. she may have felt all grown up but she was certain she needed the label. what’s funny is that now i’m not sure of anything. i don’t know what i’m doing, i don’t know where i’m going, hell, i don’t even know what i want.

i wish i could tell her that she didn’t have to wait to be beautiful like a butterfly. with her absolute faith in herself and in all her innocence, naivety and single minded; albeit misguided; belief, she was incredible. perfect. flawless. she should never have grown up at all.


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