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Growing Up

(Sep 1st, 2015 at 07:55:21 PM)
I spent the early years of my life
with my parents, first together, then apart,
with summers in YMCA daycare
mingling with other children
like someone at a work event
marveling at the metamorphosis others undergo
when no longer withholding the unspoken swear words
brought to life by figures of authority.

Later on I spent months sitting in a dark room
writing rhyming poems for pretty girls and
blogging about the moral convictions I was only just forming.
I listened to Alanis Morissette to feed
my teen-aged elitist hippie bullshit
because the only poems I wrote that were any good
were accusations of inferiority
and where I stood relative to it.

I've always obsessed over my perspective.
I'm always two steps ahead of myself.
I didn't mind being unwaveringly analytical.
I still don't.

In college I stopped being the less-than-innocent bystander
and became just another guilty party.
It's funny how some new friends, a cute girl,
and a change of plans can make people-watching enjoyable again.
It's funny how missing old friends
can subconsciously change from something worth traveling for
to a recalculation of priorities
and a mass reclassification program.
the adults were all right,
college friends are the ones you keep.
But they never mentioned the struggle
of explicitly de-prioritizing the old to make way for the new.
Or maybe I'm just more analytical than them.
Am I more cold-hearted for making a choice
while others seem to just let it all fall away without notice?

Are we all struggling with this and just making excuses?
I wonder if knowing the answer would make a difference.
I wonder if getting older really changes things
or if we just get too blunt to tell the truth.