I always thought I'd be young forever. I wanted to be older. I needed to do adult things, have the basic freedoms that the maturity level of a child could never afford. Adult life was oh so appealing. My age never seemed to change, as time ebbed by at its sickening crawling pace, never fluctuating in its infuriating pattern that I was stuck in. It seemed so slow, but I knew it was changing. I knew when I was four, seven, eleven, fifteen, and I know that I've been alive for seventeen years. Seventeen childish years, filled with childish things. It's ironic how much I wanted things to progress more rapidly. I wanted to be a big girl, a preteen, a teen, and out of my silly throes of awkward pubescence in the blink of an eye. The irony of it all is I took it all for granted. I wish I could go back and live it all again. Not much would change, but it would be so nice to go back to when things were simple; when I could play without a care or worry(that it was parents are for), when my sister didn't hate me so much, she was my best friend, and when unconditional love was given so freely that it was the most natural and wonderful thing in the entire world. Ignorance is bliss, and naïveté is really a gift in disguise. Peal away all the innocence and all you have is a bleak, cynical place exposed to war and death, despair. The picture isn't too pretty without those rose colored glasses. I'm still wearing those glasses, I know, but I'll have to take them off soon. My greatest desire at this precise moment in time is to wear them forever. To stay in a world of optimism love and life, where being adult is really just a wonderful, appealing adventure that you just want to happen. I always wanted to be adult. I want to be young forever.