Let’s talk frankly here. Adulthood is all about acting like you have it together, even if deep inside you don’t wish to contribute to society. There are moments in life when you really just want to let it all out, like you used to, as a child.
For example, while I love seeing new places all around the world, I hate the journey itself. I live in Australia, which means that even if you sit on an airplane, patiently, for 9 hours…you’re still in Australia!
When I see a baby board a long-haul airplane, more than getting annoyed, I get jealous. Because one hour into the flight, I too am bored, uncomfortable and upset, and I don’t get to cry. I too want to scream and kick, and I want people to come and hug me and entertain me, I want to be fed and I want to get off this stinking plane. I no longer care that I should be in awe of the achievement of human flight, the privilege of being able to afford a trip or how fast I can travel around the world.
Alas, I can’t start crying because I have to pretend that I am a normal person who can endure 20+ hours of movies, tiny spaces, dry eyes and disgusting toilets with ease and calm. Because I’m an adult.
A similar situation occurs in shopping malls. I see something that I know I can’t afford, and I instantly want to throw myself to the ground and have an emotional outbreak at the injustice. Equally, when I see the lines at the changing room, or the female bathroom, or any other space that requires me to patiently wait for other humans to finish their business, I want to grab something and rip it into pieces while I shed countless tears in agony at the thought of not getting what I want right this moment.
But again. I’m an adult. I play it cool, not letting anyone see how much I am suffering at their whole being and at having to respect their needs, too.
Finally, the concept of sharing. I don’t like it.
I don’t like sharing my money with the electricity company, I don’t like sharing my dessert with others in restaurants, I don’t like sharing my time with my employer and I don’t like sharing my bed. Yet, these are all everyday adult duties. The greed that boils inside me must be suppressed at all times, so I share all my things with a laboured smile.
But at nightfall, I finally get to be in my house, all by myself. I get to use the toilet when I want without waiting, I get to eat all of the cookies without sharing, and I get to entertain myself in whichever way I please, and I may choose to do so while sitting, standing or lying in my cosy bed.
Yes, at home, I can be myself. My real self. The one that stopped maturing when I was 5.
Because tomorrow, when this whole hell starts again, I have to walk out of my home composed, acting according to my official age.