To the Wonder

I know that, by society’s definition, I’m an adult now.  I’ve been trying to figure out what that means for the past few years.

I’ve discovered it can mean a lot of things.

It means being responsible.  it means being sensible.  Good lessons to learn.

But often, it means settling. Which means accepting mediocrity.  On some level, it means giving up on your dreams, because chasing a dream isn’t sensible, but having your feet firmly planted on the ground and stability are.

It seems that I missed the memo on some of these adulthood requirements.

I realize that I don’t think and see the world as most adults do.  From where I’m sitting, the possibilities still look endless.  I’ve never stopped chasing my dreams.  So I’ve failed to reach adulthood on some level.

There are names for people like me: dreamer, drifter, free spirit.

Will I always be that dreamer, drifter, and free spirit?  Maybe.  I don’t think I’m any worse for being like this.  By most measures of success, I guess I’m successful.  At least that’s what I’ve been told by my peers, other “adults”.

But I tend to measure success with contentedness and I’m not yet content, so there’s still yet to achieve.

I like the way I am.  I like challenging mind and self, the the terrifying freedom of it all.  I love the pursuit of higher thought and consciousness and doubt and questioning everything.  There never was a word as powerfully groundbreaking as “why” and the earth beneath me quakes as I use it every day, exposing virgin soil in barren lands: my gift to those firmly grounded in their adulthood.  I love the fresh perspective I bring to others.

I don’t plan on changing.  If it means that I’ll never grown up: so be it.

I never want to stop seeing the world as beautiful as it is in this very moment.

May the wonder never fade.



I’m more than a sheet of paper.  But how do they know that when  they have nothing but said sheet a paper before them to judge you by?

Twenty five years of life, blood, sweat and tears reduced to several sentences is somehow supposed to be indicative of everything that I’m capable of?

How is that accurate?  How is that fair?

They have a formula of what is a good indication of success…  A cookie cutter formula that let a bunch of the exact same people in…

How boring.  How safe.  People get nowhere when they play it safe and that’s a fact.

I’m not a risk.  I’m more than those facts and figures in front of you.

But how would you ever know this if you don’t offer me the chance to prove that?   I’m not a risk, I’m a chance, and chance is synonymous with opportunity and endless possibilities.