I grew up weird.
Both fast, and painfully slow.
I understood everything and nothing.
Socially, I started confident and grew awkwardly
first in the sun, then bending away from such bright attentions. Academically I started out running, always ahead,
always the best, the brightest. Straight As and
mismatched clothes, socially lost
yet somehow showing
'great potential'.

Now I've learned a lot.
All blacks and grays, I've finally
mastered at least a portion of my shortcomings
but its too late. Because I've grown up and its shifted again
analytically I see it, can emulate it, but it isn't
familiar or comfortable, it took me
years to catch up and I'm
still behind.

I've grown up weird.

I hate mornings
I want to sleep but I want to stay awake
I don't want to miss anything
and in the process I've come to learn
that in the short future my current pain
won't matter, in a manner of hours I'll
be on a different plane of existence and
won't even feel the lethargic movement
of painful mornings and unending
evenings.

I am an aging immortal,
exponentially expanding
knowledge through time
while my skin shrivels and
my senses dull. I surpass
the sad image of old age,
I veer into the morbid,
macabre.

I've met people like you.
Loud, boisterous, dangerous, charismatic, charming, perfect.
You, force of nature, unable to be forgotten.
steam rolling over the people like me.

All my best friends have forgotten me. But I remember them.
My friends were the loud and the powerful, protecting me, meek and sheltered. So years after I've left, their impression is seared into my brain while I'm just an insignificant whisper deep in the back of their memories.  
My friends are the **** and mysterious. The ones everyone wants to be. I'm only kept by their side because of my docile nature, every group needs a quiet one. Unfortunately the quiet ones are easy to forget...

You are soft, fleshy between my fingers. Between my teeth.
Like biting into a peach, the pull of skin before the real fruit is bared.

I don't know who I am.
And I know I never have.
For some reason its hitting me harder than before,
or at least from what I remember.
I remember it being bad when my mom was a wreck
and I, a strictly A student, received my first F.
I remember it being bad when my first step dad left,
and the weird assurances he made that he wouldn't abandon me.
I never thought he would, until he tried to reassure me.
But the earliest memory I have of not knowing myself, of it being bad,
was when I was little, in court, because my dad wanted to adopt me,
and a man I'd never met wouldn't let him.
I was young, and I realized I didn't know who I was.
I was 12 and I didn't know who I was.
I was 16 and I didn't know who I was.
Now I'm 20 and I don't know who I am.
My mom was 36, and didn't know who she was.
I'm writing this as documentation.
A thought taken down, so as not to be forgotten.
All sorts of people talk about forgetting who they are,
and finding themselves again.
I want my future self to know, that as of yet,
I've never known who I was.

When I was 16, I couldn't wait for the freedom that comes with adulthood.
No, I didn't want to grow up. I want that to be clear.
I wanted a neverland, young forever, without a curfew.
Now I'm 20. I know, still young, whole life ahead of me, blah, blah, blah.
The problem is in my head I'm 16.
I don't think I'll ever grow up.
But when I look in the mirror, I'm old. Aging fast, the future is too near and real, blinding in its obnoxious inevitability.
I'm not peter pan, or a lost boy.
They say enjoy being young while you can, adults laugh in a bitter manner when kids dream of future freedoms but they seem to ignore the fact that it isn't age that people long for, its the freedom we attribute to certain ages. No, I don't want to get older.
More than anything, I want to be young.
Young and free, but they seem to rarely overlap.