Growing Up

The video above echoes the very epitome of my innermost thoughts and feelings about losing my childhood one day at a time. I feel as though my youth is the younger boy in this video, and I am Sadie, and I am crying over the fact that my youth is slipping away.

When I was younger, I had pictured my life rather differently than what it is today. There is nobody to blame except for sadistic movie directors and screenwriters who think that portraying happy endings and fantasy-esque lifestyles are healthy for children to live up to.

I wanted to escape with Peter Pan. I had thought that he had not visited me because we did not own a double storey house - how was he supposed to come to a single storey house and not be spotted? I also thought he did not visit because of my lack of siblings - I have a younger sister, but at the time I was seven and she was four, so her and I probably would not have been much fun for Peter and Tinkerbell to be with.

Adult life is quite difficult. If somebody had warned me that drifting off to sleep would become difficult, and getting out of bed early even more difficult, and that drinking coffee was the only way to manage coping with sleep deprivation due to all the tasks adults perform, then I would not have signed up for it - I do not think that anybody would have. Would not you rather fly off with a young boy dressed in green, to a land where everything is ever-lasting? To a land where nothing like telephone bills or gas or water bills exist?

I blame Walt Disney for filling my head with this nonsense. I call it nonsense only because I think Tinkerbell would need to haul along three tonnes of that magic dust to make me fly, because Cinderella would be working at Starbucks today and would not be able to find a fairy godmother because all of the old women that come to get coffee in the morning are suffering from menopausal symptoms and sleep deprivation, a terrible concoction that could result in Cinderella losing her job if she is not quick and concise enough.

Reality hits hard those with wild imaginations, hits hard the dreamers and the make-believers. It hits hard those who have Disney movie collections, and those who await the presence of that little boy dressed in green each night. It hits those who think that true love even exists, particularly those who have invested in what they thought was it only to be shown otherwise in a painstaking manner. What Disney movies forgot to include was emotions, heartache, and loneliness. Those three elements are far more realistic than a poor woman magically fitting into the glass slipper, than a woman with long hair locked up in a tower who lets that hair down and does not feel any pain as a muscly main climbs up to her via her long locks of hair. 

It is all of utter ridiculousness and I pity those who enjoy reading romantic books. Unless you are reading Fifty Shades of Grey, then you better strap yourself in for a nice big slap from my friend, Reality.