{Valentine's day at 22}

IT's true, we get older.
And whatever we believed about growing up, about adulthood
how invincible they looked, how easy it looked,
it seems vague now, and almost laughable.
I wonder what gives children these notions
that with age comes a certain right, as if all our fears and cowardice in childhood
can magically evaporate when we hit that right age.
As if the increases in numbers of candles on cakes
are minor triumphs every year worth celebrating
the coming of age
and the things beyond
Growing bigger than our clothes, our shoes
that giraffe measuring tape in MRT stations I used to pit myself against
proud to out do that immortal animal
And then you reach that magical age
you get this special key, a symbol of freedom
then suddenly there is a landslide of responsibilities
you are thrown out from that cosy cradle
with all its magic and it admitted vulnerability.
Now you hunt for yourself.
Suddenly you want to seek refuge in your past,
in childhood.
Nevermind that it was not really that happy
that skies might not have been that blue
nor grass that green
growing older, and only hopefully wiser
you see more questions
you never noticed as a child
everything seemed to answer to itself back then
now you are only equipped with these question marks
running around trying to match shapes and colours
like those toys you used to excel in
blue triangle in the blue slot
only you've found out blue is not exactly blue
and there are so many shades to life
You become so much more vulnerable
it is like valentines day and singlehood
I thought Bridget Jones was a fool
and all that crap about celebrating cupids with wings
were bloody bullshit
who cares if I have to be alone (again) this year
I'll live.
That was the courage of teenagers(or drunks)
I don't drink, and still I age
Suddenly ordinary things scares me
like those red hearts on display windows
they take on new shapes
like monsters under beds
and I need an imaginary friend.