I was there sitting on a chair, drawing Scooby-Doo with a childhood tale on my head. I started to sing, they shook me off and said “Be Mature, Act like your age”. That hit me straight in my head and I denied, they started treating me like insane.
That hurt me a lot and I thought, does age have anything to do with how we behave, act or react? Why are they forcing me to be a lot like them and none like me? Why they are all the same and still want to be different but do the same every day? Who are they to judge me, when I am living on my way?
I think I should be like them, have a big smile on face but with a black heart. Know their destination but don’t know where to start. Every morning they wake up same, carrying the scars of past. Have a bag full of worries accompanied till the stars? No matter if there is sun or beautiful moonlight, they are same like they were. They always wish for happiness but attract sad part. They know their role in the tale of a mediocre star.
But stop I want to smile, live and laugh from the heart, with my pocket full of happiness in the dark. Want to cry, fall and rise every day and night. Make them numb and let my dreams take the flight.
I have made my mind
Sing that song again this time louder.
Let them be mature.
I am happy and strong.