my random musings, now in words.
You know what, I think I am getting used to not saying what’s in my mind. I think I am actually capable to control certain parts of my brain so that certain things won’t slip from my foul mouth. Or was it called maturity? (No, I don’t want that. That, in any way does not sound good. It sounds old.) Maturity means that people won’t give you room to make mistakes. Maturity means you are at the age where you can forsee every morsel of consequences of the action you will do. Well, what I can forsee at this point of time is that I won’t mature any faster than I am now. The maturity timeline ain’t going to go faster. I can certainly grow out of my mistakes, but not exactly mature out of it. And as I said, maturity to me means to ‘grow old’. I ain’t be a somebody who will grow old with her mistakes. Not me, sir. I’ll be the kind who grows out of her mistakes, and hope that she won’t be doing the same shit again. She definitely won’t let anybody interfere with her life choices no more. She will decide solely, and she alone will face the consequences. She won’t tryna beg for help. No, sir. She is headstrong and she knew it, and obviously there’s a reason for it. Some may look at it as a ‘young blood rebel’, but that’s what she identifies with. To her, that’s what she call ‘getting independence’. Yes, sir I’m gonna be that person, and that person only. That had been decided and absolutely no one will get their chance to waste their saliva telling her that there’s no point in deciding to become that person. I’ll fight back and say ‘Stop wasting your saliva on me. Go and find a mirror.’ Because time flies ever so fastly, she can’t wait for this shit to end, and gain her ultimate freedom to do what she intended to do when she was 9 years old, and only God will decide the rest.