shock to the system

When I was 12, I imagined that you would say all the right things that would instantly make me feel better, that your words, demeanor and intentions would envelope me like a comforting hug.

When I was 15, I didn't really care who you were or what you looked like so long as I was accepted for who I was: noisy, boisterous, enthusiastic, cheerful, never serious: the epitome of all personality with complete lack of looks. and security.

When I was 17, I was happy with me. I couldn't care less about what other people thought, unless it were those who actually cared about my well-being, much less spare a thought of how my life would change with or without your presence.

When I was 18, I thought I found a tangible form that was made up of my expectations of you. At least somewhat. Although a little frightened, the rush of taking risks and diving head-first into a concrete "you" made me disregard everything else.

When I was 19, I had been dragged across a bed of nails and was left to pick up whatever was left of myself. I still had some form of bed-raggled personality from the dregs of my despair, but at the height of it all, you no longer existed. I held no expectations, only broken thoughts, reckless abandon and dealings with helplessness.

When I was 20, I tried to regain myself but different priorities had taken over in addition to my Self. Unimportant, stupid but at the time oh so necessary. Things that I never used to bat an eyelash at suddenly became the reason I existed. I didn't even know what you were, I just knew that all you were constituted the unknown, the imaginary and the unattainable.

Now that I'm 22, I sit with simple thoughts, taking things as they come. But I'm amazed to find that I still have the same expectations of you. And suddenly I'm 12 again. But expectations don't always equate to reality, and being the spoilt brat that I am, it has taken me that long to finally accept things as they are.