A Dreamer’s Thoughts On: Being Immature

Just a couple of weeks ago, I was at McDonalds walking back to school and wore my best friend’s smiley face sunglasses, eating an ice-cream cone and a chocolate covered Oreo, and sipping my soda, singing and skipping. When I walked into my school, I got the most judgmental glances. I could tell they thought was absolutely ridiculous and immature.

And I was…being super immature. I know it, and I don’t really care because I’ve come to respect that I will never ever be mature to the satisfaction to my parents and older kids at my school. I will always be Liv. The girl that just couldn’t get it right.

But I’ve also come to accept that I can be mature, if I want to be. Because sometimes I need to put on my big-boy britches and take charge. Though when I’m mature, sometimes, people expect too much from me, I can’t carry the world, and I only want to escape watching Disney movies, falling love with fictional characters, drinking chocolate milkshakes, and talking crazy.

So I’m going to keep being myself while everyone else matures. I’ll still love unicorns and sparkles. I’ll still love singing silly songs and talking to trees. I’ll still love skipping or twirling. I’ll still love sitting on a swing, drinking lemonade, and talking to myself. I’ll still love talking about time travel in awe. And playing pretend and building forts, because that’s who I am as a person.

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