Night is a moment in it's own

It's that perfect time of night, when the dogs snoring and the clocks ticking, and you tip toe down stairs in your sweat shirt, that you pulled on because the air frosted the windows and sent a chill down you're spine as you breathe fogged the window that looked out into an empty dim lit, glowing, pouring street. and yet you put nothing else on because the house is so still you don't fear anyone, or anything else. You're feet creek arcoss the floor as you grab a glass from the cabnet and take a moment to breathe as water trickles slowly from the filter. Somethings on the counter catches your eye and the filter shouts off adbruptly and the fridge hums to live as you pull your cup away. Cookies, chocolate chip, they are placed perfectly in a circle on the plate and they are warm and ready for the taking. And so you grab two because you know that no body will know (except the scale). You flick off the lights with your elbow for your arms are preoccupied and you race up the stairs through the dark of the night so that the demons and horrors of the shadows of night won't grab you. And as you click your door shut behind you, you collapse onto the bed, the rain has stopped now and the mist sets heavy over the pavement. The trees shadows seem larger in the dim lighting and as you devoure the cookies and gulp down the milk you wrap up in your comforter and pull your stuffed animal close. A used worn out animal, one with matted down fur and ripped seams. It's eyes are sad and have grow tired over the years, as have yours and you seem to look back at yourself in the reflection, but that's impossible because the lighting is not bright enough for your eyes to reflect in the beads mounted above it's crocked nose and tilted smile. You flick your light off and lay down, a passing cars head lighs illuminate the room for a moment so that God can see the tear as it falls from your cheek and so delicately rests in the palm of your hand that cups your face. You roll over to escape the world and pure, uninterupted silence encases you. And yet the darkness and despaire does not come, you wait and then tilt your head from the muffled cries and suficating pillow to see that the street light lights up the small, dark beads on your stuffed animals face. The eyes are looking off into the distance, out the window to somewhere far away, and yet the light is shinning on you.

Grown up. As the gleaming eyes of young children stare into the glittering, paper wrapped, packages in window displays at the mall adults may turn their heads away and laugh to themselves for they know that Santa is not real. As children splash and play in the surf and build castles out of sand that fill every inch of their bodies from the tips of thier eye lashes to in between their toes, adults may set down a fresh beach towel and lather on the SPF as they squint down at a novel. Is that what growing up is about? Does being a grown up mean you've simply just lost the innocence of jumping into a pile of leaves, or fresh from the dryer, warm, pile of clothes. If so then I wish to never grow up. Grown up have diplomas and cars and jobs, their parents can tell their friends that their son or daughter is successful and that they are proud. So is making your parents proud and being secure what being a grown up is about? Being a grown up seems to have secret rules, it's a responsibility and duty of it's own.
Rules of being a grown up:
1. Once you are over the age of 18 you are not a grown up you are an adult and once you're over the age of 60 you're not old you're a senior.
2. You must have a steady income and be a participating member in society even if you do not enjoy your career or the activities you partake in.
3. You must have a house with two to four bed rooms and a sizeable kitchen and gathering area for parties in which you will have small talk that pertain to subjects completely irrelevant to things that actually consern, intrest, or intrigue you.
4. You must smile and encourage child like activites from children but most not actually believe in or not put a logical explanation behind things like the Easter bunny, tooth fairy, and even the magic of Disneyland.
5. You must keep your composure, unless you are under the influence of alcohol in which case is the only time you may have an excuse not to support everyone and may sing, dance, laugh, and scream all you wish.
6. You must never ever speak of the adult rules, break them, or seem as if you are scared or don't completely understand what to do.

18th birthdays can mean death to many when they are handed bills and choices that they are not prepared for. Being an adult can be scary and dreadful if these are the rules we all live by. But I know people and parents and adults that live by these rules everyday and yet still are more child like an irresponsible then some of the people who live by a completely different set of rules. I don't believe that to be an adult you must be able to support a family or have settled down like most of society and our culture tell us we have to have had done to be offically accepted and grown up. I believe that a parent may be proud and you may be considered an adult when you make your bed without being asked, you learn on your own and excel in your work because you enjoy and are good at what you do, when you spend your money in places that matter. You're an adult when you can put your heart and soul into something and fall head first into relationships, friendships, beliefs, and other such things. And then when you can teach and lead by example of being happy, true to yourself, and standing up for what is right.

I'm only fifteen but why can I not welcome adulthood into my life today?