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Who I was to who I am.

I don't feel young anymore.
I can't relate to the young anymore.
I don't know when that happened.
Like I blinked and life changed.
It's unnerving.

It's not that I'm old.
I don't have grey hair.
Just now I'm mature.
I'm responsible.
I'm a proper Grown-up.

People trust me to feed their cat
And water their plants.
I cook and I clean,
I earn my own cash.

I pay bills and buy food.

I can no longer plead naivete
To excuse idiotic behavior.
I just wanted to try it'
Is now a phrase rarely used
- Few things remain I haven't tried.

I enjoyed my youth,
And all the stupid things I did.
Like when mum caught me drunk.
And I did my best to act sober-
I failed so miserably!

The sloppy pleasantness
That was my first kiss.
Coughing my lungs up
From my first cigarette,
Feeling so cool and edgy.

When I lost me virginity
To a boy I hardly knew
On a field, in the rain.
Not how I'd dreamed it,
Not exactly special.

That feeling of total exhilaration
At being in a Club, underage.
I still go to clubs, and still enjoy them.
But now it's all legal.
It's somehow not the same.

I can see my youth,
But it's through different eyes,
Blurred by the passing of time.
I can't feel what I felt then,
Quite numb to who I was.

The young me was great though,
I appreciate those experiences
She was so open to.
Her experimentation
Her passion for new things.

These all made me who I am.
And I like who I am.
I don't want to go back.
Youth was hard!
I just miss it, is all.

Learn more about this author, Lydia Clark.
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