Photograph by Jordan Whitt |

Gift To A Twenty Something

Dear childhood,

You are long gone, and I don’t miss you at all.

Everyone does, you must be happy about that, but you give me no reason to come around and beg you to come back. I cannot remember how to lie to you, because surprisingly you were the one who taught me how to do so. I do remember a vague image of a chubby kid sitting with glistening marbled eyes and peached cheeks, in a white dress. On the road, after tubbing down the staircase. Glistening with tears, the ones she can’t show anyone because she is stranded in the summery unpleasant afternoon. That day you taught the child to get up, dust off, and keep walking. She wasn’t stranded because no one was around, you left her stranded and confused as she tumbled towards teenage years. Did you pass on the baton to failure midway, and ran off? That was big plan all along, wasn’t it? I can’t complain. At least failure tried , and still is trying, to compete in the race you abandoned. He’s trying to be my friend, but you. You I terribly hate. There’s no part of you I want to relive, most of them, mostly most.

Do you think being the kid shying away from other kids, and sitting in one corner is fun? Do you think waking up to dog’s crushed body on the road was a great idea for a Wednesday morning greeting. You took a glimpse from the corner, and flew away like the memories of a unicorn. Till date, I remember not being a rebel but an adult. A child who taught herself why she needs to iron her tunic, and why snakes are not humankind’s best friend. But for some reason dogs are. To be honest, you tricked me into make an appearance again, and left me stranded once again. I was left behind with confused dreams, and a realization that you were a person. Yes, you definitely were. I lost my soul to you again and again. Each time I was about to fall in your arms for comfort, you would walk off. Leaving me face down on the road, exactly like my fall from the stairs, with dreams shattered and life unhinged.

In 15 days, I’ll be 25. Though I still like the idea of childhood, you make me regret believing in you and crying over you. But I’ve realized, 15 days later I’m going to gift myself the gift of a fresh life and adulthood. I will try to do justice to every other companion who is with me right now, and I will stop waiting for you. Because frankly, you’re long gone.

Your brutally bitchy adult.