And.. I grew up

I smiled once, maybe twice. Morning flowers beamed at me. We bonded, over innocence. The sun was the brightest my eyes had seen. I missed the darkness, I cried.

I was new. I knew no one. I wanted to speak, but didn't know how. There were people, people I'd never seen. I was scared; helpless. I cried, again. I hated them, but they loved me. She had been holding my tiny little finger all this while. I felt it. I was just a baby. She looked beautiful, and she was. Her eyes looked adorable when she cried. I made her cry. She knew my language. I owe her one for that, I thought. I wanted to grow up to be like her. I wondered how I looked.

I was ten. Flowers smiled and the sun did shine bright. He knew I did not like him but shared his light with me. He made a face. I did not miss the darkness. I loved my life, my freedom. I was a kid, and I was proud of it. I did not behave, I was excused. I loved the phase. Every bit of it. I was beginning to look beautiful. I felt it. I loved, they loved back. I made her cry to see how beautifully she cries. I broke a few promises. I'll make up for them when I grow up. I will, I promise.

I was twenty. I noticed the flowers didn't smile anymore. There was no innocence to bond over. I wasn't sure who changed, or what did. The sun gave me a cold shoulder. I knew he had been holding it. Planning it. Venting it. But I did not go back to the darkness. I didn't care. It was still about me, my life, my wish. I loved, and I hated. A few loved back. I broke no more promises. I hadn't bothered to make any. I had not grown up. Not yet. I needed time. I needed space. Just a little bit more. I looked beautiful and I knew it. I still made her cry. But she had kept her promises. She had held my hand, I did not. I loved her. But I did not want to be like her.

Twenty odd years. The flowers are forgotten but the sun is not, for its revenge is long overdue. I love. I hate. They only hate back. I make promises I cant keep and so do they. I still love her and she still loves me back. It is about me, my life, my wish. It always was. Is. Should be. My time's up, and I'm a grown up. I miss the darkness, but I cannot cry.