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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() an invisible line we cross, growing from childish to responsible and when asked we call ourselves “mature” with bold black strokes, messy print across flimsy paper and yet am i all grown-up because i’ve taken college classes, am i mature because i can cook and clean and care for others? do i meet the threshold
when i sit in the living room and realize my grandparents won’t live forever, that with cancer comes quiet, comes silent sorrow and fatigue so evident in the lines on our faces, comes the realization that we should keep our friends close but our family closer? i think maybe maturity is when we come to realize that the world is not fair, but we can do our best to be just, when we have met our glass ceilings and decided to grow despite the shards embedded in our souls i think we are mature when we realize that it is better to love than to hate, when we learn to listen to wisdom and take correction but to lock our values firmly behind our ribcages, deeply implanting them behind our skulls so that we’d be swayed only by those worth listening to i think we are not as mature as we like to say we are. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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