I never wanted to grow up, but I couldn’t hold it back. I tried holding it back, but no matter how much I held my breath, I kept growing. It was just a little at first, but soon I was passing through grades and having birthdays and making friends and being responsible for my actions. The only responsibility I ever wanted was to make my Mother laugh and forget about all of the hurt. She never told me why she was sad, but I could see it in her eyes.
When I turned 18, after I stopped wishing, my Mother died and I never saw her as happy as on that day. She made my favorite breakfast, bought me some new clothes and wrote me a very long letter on why she decided to let go.
Every since that day, I hold on, tightly, to the things that make me smile and try not to forget about the warmth of your lips on mine.
Because if I do, you’ll never be able to pull me from the pit of my own despair.
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