The Pro’s of Immaturity: Growing Pains

I don’t feel like going to bed, so I’m staying up writing my last column. After a year defending and dwelling upon my immature quirks, it’s come down to a final 450 words.

What have I learned this year? I’m a “Harry Potter” addict, to the extent that when I turned 18, I got a cake with a picture of Harry and a broomstick on it.

I’m short. I always will be short, and I walk around with bare feet that will someday be hairy and gross.

I want to be a princess and was scarred by finding out the Easter Bunny wasn’t real. I make gross vegan cakes, listen to an unhealthy amount of Taylor Swift, and watch far too much “Sesame Street” for my own good.

You’d think that after seven columns, I might have discovered something worthwhile about myself. But no, after 7 times 450 words (3150 words!), my greatest insight is that I like Elmo and sappy pop songs.

Productive year, I’ll say.

You’d think that, after all that I’ve supposedly learned about myself, I might have the sense to grow up a little bit. I’m graduating in a week, and I haven’t learned how to be an adult. I mean, it’s 1:15 in the morning, and I’m writing my column not because I have a deadline to meet, but because of a really childish reason: I don’t want to sleep in an unmade bed, and I hate making my bed more than I hate lentils.

And for the record, I really, really don’t like lentils.

I guess we all grow up eventually. Freshmen become sophomores, juniors become seniors, and seniors go their separate ways. We all swap silly things for grown-up life, whether it’s tooth fairies for wisdom teeth or chocolate milk for coffee.

It’s too bad, though. I don’t want to stop trick-or-treating till I’m too old to leave my house, and sometimes there really is nothing as yummy as macaroni and cheese—the kind in the blue box with the cheesy gold dinosaur on it (pun man strikes again!).

But you know what? I don’t care if my childish obsessions and traits are unhealthy or intellectually deficient. More than anything, we all need to cling to whatever bits of childhood that we can.

If we forget what it’s like to see the world through young eyes, I think we lose something irreplaceable. There’s nothing like feeling innocent and in awe of the great potential in the world around you, even if it’s for that one second before you go back to everyday grownup life.

It’s getting close to 1:40 now. I think I’m going to get some chocolate milk.