[ 05-18-03 ] [ 2:44 p.m.]
[ Oh, grow up! ]

I have realized that I will probably never grow up.

When I'm seventy, I'm probably still going to get a kick out of playing practical jokes on the nearest unsuspecting soul I see. I'll probably die loudly, because of the sheer fact that I don't know how to be quiet. I'm one of those people who, if in the right mood, can laugh at anything.

My maturity level is even with the floor. And if I even have a maturity level, I'm sure it was a mistake that it was given to me, because I sure as hell don't use it.

I can just see it now... A huge-ass college party, booze and laughing kids everywhere, and me right in the thick of things.

That's what kind of person I am. That's what kind of person I've always been.

Put it to you simply - most girls would balk if a potential boyfriend marked the hell out of her arms and clothes with permanent marker. Me? I let him. Most girls would run screaming at the sight of a paint war. Me? I was in the middle of it. Most girls would have to be forced to do something like be in a dunk tank. Me? I volunteered.

And, for the record, those were all things I did this weekend.

I've reached sixteen. And now I think I'm staying here for the rest of my life, at least as far as maturity goes.

I have a considerable amount of friends who would tell you just how immature I can be. Carol and Liz would be the brunt of those friends, considering they've seen how I can react to simple things such as a desk chair with wheels. I can't help it that I like to go sliding across the floor and slamming into things on that particular desk chair.

I'm also prone to do about the craziest shit you could possibly imagine. I'm not even slightly embarrassed that I've run around outside at night dressed in only my underwear.

Is that painting a pretty clear picture?

I can chug sodas like nobody's business, and I can put out some pretty nice surround sound afterwards. And as far as farting goes? Well, if you're around me and I fart, you won't live, and I'm damn proud of that. If you were to ask me to do something like smear ketchup all over myself at the lunch table, chances are pretty good that I'd do it.

I think a good reason for a lot of my craziness is that I have no concept of self-image. Sure, I'm self-conscious at times, but only when I'm trying not to be absolutely fucking psycho. When I don't have to worry about looking good, then, by fucking God, I won't!

Oh, to be perfect.

Yeah, right.

The fact of the matter is, I will never grow up. I can't. I have way too much fun being immature to worry about trying to... dare I think it... impress people! Screw doing what they want. I'm me.

And if "me" is immature, then you're just going to have to deal with it, because I won't change for anyone, not even myself.

Luckily for me, I don't have to grow up.

"Growing old is mandatory. Growing up is optional."

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