On May 24th, I turned 16. I received presents, blew out candles, ate cake; just like any other year. But what's different, is I wasn't looking forward to this day. I didn't count down the days, or anticipate what I might receive. I didn't want a party, or anything of that sort; I barely even saw my family. Today is the day that I finally realized, I'm growing up; and I have to admit, I don't like it.
Sure, I wanted to turn 16; be able to drive, and do all that fun stuff. But I felt a twang in my brain that really doesn't want to grow up. The part of my brain that wishes that bouncing in bouncy houses was still normal, or still being able to climb through McDonald's play place without getting yelled at by the staff. Not having to deal with the pressures of high school, and not understanding what the word 'heartbreak' really meant. Being able to cry and not get laughed at, and take field trips to the zoo. Go to playgrounds and interact with all the little kids in the area; but instead, I find myself swinging alone, with nothing but faint memories of my childhood. I remember going to Lake Michigan with my great grandma and throwing bread for the birds, and seeing who could skip a rock farther than the other. But she's another memory that's long gone. It seems that every day I lose a piece of my puzzle, the puzzle that was once my childhood.
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