It has been a long time since I last wrote something on here, last post is from before New Year’s Eve. Consider the time between then and now as my hangover from it. One so massive it took nearly four fucking months and a whole lotta sleep. If you follow me on any social media (you should, my Insta is art and my Snap game is on fire), then you know that shitloads happened in those four months. I’ve had many opportunities thrown at me, too bad I’m a shitty catcher. Even more problems came my way, lucky me I’m a sneaky bitch and I’ve been dodging them faster that Neo did with those bullet in Matrix.
Thing is I’m a bit scared of responsibilities. Hell, who am I kidding, lazy as I am, responsibilities sounds as fun as having a sleepover with Annabelle and the girl from the Exorcist. I’d get real bitchy with those two little brats. Too much responsibilities and no sleep make Stan a real cunt. Now, I’ve already written something about how to be an adult but I feel it needed an update after I heard something that bothered me. I was told one too many times that I was childish, too immature. On any given day, I would have waved that off but that last time was the cherry on the couscous.
I’m not denying anything, I am childish. However I do think I’m allowed to be. I’m not even twenty yet. I’ve got friends younger than me, still in high school. On the opposite side of the spectrum, I also have friends as old as thirty-five, one of them is having a child. I do understand that I might look older on the outside, and that can lead any fucker to think I’m a responsible grown ass man but really, take a look at my poor life choices and you’ll see that on the inside I’m as fucked up as the movie Inside Out. I still consider vodka orange juice as an important part of my five a day. Don’t get confused, I can act like an adult most of the times, I do think that waking up every morning and acting like everything is fine should get me an Oscar for best dramatic performance. I just feel that it’s normal for me not to have everything figured out. It’s an duty if not a right to enjoy the last moments of my childhood, before I get stuck in a gang bang between taxes, work, and other fun responsibilities. Note the sarcasm.
Worst is, I’m now finishing my second year of uni and if I don’t secure myself a placement for next year I go straight to third year. There would be no problem with that unless I don’t do a Master degree which would lend me entering the corporate world at the young age of twenty-one which on my part sounds hella young. Honestly, I just wanna go back to the days when I was a toddler, just napping and eating all day long, also I was the fucking cutest. No proof needed. You see when we’re young we can’t wait to be older and vice-versa, however I don’t really want to grow up. Call me a hipster bitch but I don’t wanna be put in a mold. I’m required, at my still young age, to understand things and act upon them when, regarding those adults duties, I’ve got my head up my ass, my ass in the fog. Yesterday I had to vote, and I did, #goldstar, but it was effort to understand all of this bullshit, like when one of my ex asked me which dress was prettier. The outside world isn’t the place to find fun so my bed is where I go.
Sometimes, I would kill to follow this ginger bitch Peter Pan to Neverland, or whatever places he was going to while tripping on acid. Never growing up, no responsibilities, days filled with naps and food. Although I soon remember that I ain’t made to live in the jungle and that living in the fear of a giant pedophile with a hook cannot be considered #goals. Maybe this is why I hate kids so much, maybe it’s not they bratty little attitude nor they capacity to annoy the living hell out of me. No, maybe it’s just jealousy, maybe it’s Maybeline. Ok sorry, shitty ass joke. Truth be told, those little holes in condoms are living my dream life.
Nevertheless, being a grown up has its perks, it’s a question of perspective. You trade apple juice for beer, anxiety can be your imaginary friend and porn is your new favourite TV show. Also, you don’t have to ask your parents permission anymore… wait, I do, nothing scarier than my mum. Serious. I didn’t wanna grow up but biology said « lmao, fuck you » and now I’m a child in the not so in shape body of an adult.
At least I know I’m not alone in this situation, just look in the eyes of others around you, if they seem dead, it means they got no clue to what they’re doing… or they’re really dead. Either way, if you can’t handle me at my Blue Ivy, you don’t deserve me at my Mahatma Gandhi. Just grow up ? We ain’t in Mario bitch, mushrooms get you hallucinations, not taller.