Don't Wanna

Some days I'm ok with getting older. Today, I just don't want to. Today I am wearing a suit. Wearing it poorly, I think. I got a haircut that I don't like that makes me look like Ramona Quimby. I feel like a little kid playing dress-up. Not just superficially, either. I go to work and I feel like I'm fooling people into believing that I know something about libraries and books and all. I mean, I have a diploma, but I feel so green sometimes. I feel that the only thing separating me from the student workers is the fact that I don't wear jeans every day. And honestly, sometimes I feel as though they're more knowledgeable, capable, and valued than I am. They know what's going on. My boss knows what's going on, too, but he doesn't often tell me. Why do they need me? I'm part-time and when I'm not there, a student does my job. I honestly don't know how to differentiate myself from that. The person who had this job before me was the first one to have the job at all, and he did the bare minimum, and students cover the desk when I'm not here, so it seems as though things were just fine without me here. I don't know how to make a mark.

I want to be a student again. I want to shuffle to class in jeans, flip flops, and my cut-off sweatshirt. I want to read Shakespeare and soak in what professors tell me. I want them to ask me questions so that I can think of things I've never thought of before. I don't know how to do it by myself. I don't want to worry about my vacation time, insurance, and what needs to be done. Let me be 20 again. Let me have my 20 self back. I promise I'll take better care of her this time. I won't eat such crap. I'll go to the dentist. Let me be beautiful and silly and thoughtless and carefree. Is it any surprise that I didn't value it when it was mine?

You know, I've spent a lot of time telling my younger friends that my apparent confidence and self-awareness is an act. I really believe that to be true. But sometimes, I feel like such a bad actor. The person that truly needs to be convinced is me, and I don't buy it; not for a second.

I'm whining. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. For today, though, I want to go home and read and eat junk food and not care about any of it. I think I lost my innocence the second I started caring.

When did I become old?