July 20, 2013 in Dag

I’m not really a grown-up

I’ve got a confession to make.

For anybody who knows me well, I don’t think this will come as a big shock. But anyway, here goes.

I’m not really a grown up.

There. I’ve said it. It’s all out in the open.

Just to qualify a few things. I suppose I look like a grown up. If you happened to know my age (a well kept secret) you might think I should be a grown up. I even manage to do a bunch of things you would usually think could only be done by grown ups, such as having a job, owning a house, and fathering a couple of children.

But it doesn’t change the fact that when it comes down to it, I’m not really a grown up. I’m a big kid, walking around in a grown up world. The thoughts going around in my head are kid’s thoughts. The things I like – the food I eat and the music I listen to and the movies and TV shows I watch – are pretty much the same ones I liked when my age matched my maturity. And that goes especially double for the stories I like to write.

You might think it must be difficult going through life as a fully grown child – and you’d be right. Every day I live in constant fear that I’ll be discovered. Every time I show up to work, I’m worried that my colleagues will finally see through my disguises. Every time I speak to my kids, I just know that they’re going to trump my childlike logic and arguments. It’s a constant mask I wear every day that I always feel is about to slide down, leaving the genuine childlike me revealed for all the world to see.

So now that you’ve heard my confession, please don’t let on. Keep it to yourself. It can be our little secret. 

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