Time didn’t knock.
It barged in
ripping childhood from our fists
like a thief in daylight.
The girls we played tag with?
Now wear gold chains
and bridal sarees,
their mothers whispering,
“Find a good groom before it’s too late.”
The apus who once cursed physics exams
now cradle babies,
their laughter echoing
in kitchens we never entered.
And the vaiyas
those college gods we once feared,
we used to ask,
“How does it feel to be grown?”
Now we know.
And it’s not gentle.
It’s brutal.
It’s fast.
It’s nineteen years old
and already nostalgic.
We used to dream of this age
now we mourn it
before it’s even over.
We blinked.
And the playground turned into
wedding halls.
The group chats turned into
ghost towns.
The selfies turned into
memories we scroll past
but never open.
We are the last breath
of college life.
The final page
before the next chapter
writes itself
without asking.
This poem is for the ones who feel time didn’t pass—it attacked. It’s a raw reflection on growing up, watching childhood dissolve into marriage proposals, baby photos, and ghosted friendships. If you’ve ever felt like life moved too fast, this is your space. Drop your thoughts, memories, regrets, and rage in the comments. Let’s talk about the speed of growing up—and what it stole from us.What’s the hardest part of growing up no one warned you about?
- Which friend’s transformation shocked you most?
- Do you feel nineteen is already too late to dream?
- If time is a thief, what did it steal from you?
- What would you say to your younger self if you had one minute?
