Some people define growing up as growing into you place in the world,
but its not.

It's the first time
You realize he is not yours anymore.
It's the first time you notice your parents are not your heroes.
Its not about your first kiss but your last.
And even worse, you realize there really is no milk in Oreo's.

It's not falling in love for the first time
but falling down and watching your bruises
avoiding to touch them because with every touch
you cant help but remember that this skin was once pink
but you have no idea how it got so blue.

Sixteen is wondering if it had to be this way and leaving the room
to avoid listening to the static of broken people
that have forgotten how to channel forgiveness.

you keep growing extending your roots in cynical fields,
producing fruit that would **** you.
You build walls around your legs when someone tries to move you.
you plant your feet into cement to make sure you don't lose yourself.

You wake up to the thought that he is making someone else breakfast
and you feed on the last words he said to you three years ago.
You realize that you are breathing in the same air he is breathing out
and maybe that is something you could live without.

You turn off the lights, and you turn off your mind.
And you dream. you dream about the lies of staying young.
Waking up to him, laughing and loving but wait,
what if growing up really meant;

Falling in love with yourself first.
Painting your golden hair on a mirror just the way it is
because you have grown just as beautifully as all of those glimmering strands.

If someone tries to cut your hair, smile.
Because maybe growing up means
taking a step back to grow some more,
so fix your old split ends.

Maybe growing up means
you are the only one that can turn the light on.
maybe those bruises
are just reminders that you got up and bumped something in the dark
because you finally figured out that there is a ******* light switch.

It's the first time you discover that there are people in places
with souls filled with empty spaces, just like you.
And maybe your heroes have to grow up too.

Maybe growing up
is putting down the phone.
Not because it would hurt you less
but because now you know that
your ex lover is not going to pick up the phone.
but it will always be the voice of someone you have never known.
on the other end "hello".
"who am i speaking to?".

Instead open a door,
and let the essence of your home spill out.
Because just know it's only time until
the fragrance of who you are draws in
someone tall, and someone grown,
someone who is not afraid to be known.

someone who knows that they don't belong in the empty spaces
of someone else's heart, they shouldn't be there in the first place.
But in mirrors, in the reflection of their own eyes.
So don't breath too deeply because you might find it
too hard to find yourself in the fog you left on your mirror.

Growing up is not
turning off all the lights because you are scared of what you see
but being strong enough to know that pain exist's so you can move forward.
It's not looking into someone else's eyes to see yourself,
but looking into someone else's eyes to make sure they see you.

Growing up is realizing that
even though he made your heart beat it's fastest when you didn't want it beating at all
it was still you that carried you heart in your treasure chest to make that possible.