I want to throw caution to the wind and run with scissors.
I want to chase down chaos, boldly, instead of waiting for it to find me and hoping it doesn’t.
I want to knock on Fate’s door, look it straight in the eye and whisper “You are so fired” then run away laughing maniacally, scissors raised up in my fists.
I want to put on a cape and pretend I can fly.
I want to twist all of the rules into balloon animals and create new ones, like “you must play for at least one hour a day or you’ll go blind.”
I want to spill the milk and cry about it if I feel like and have someone console me instead of pep talk me.
I want to leave responsiblity behind and put caring about it on the back burner.
I want to jump in mud puddles and squish the mud between my toes.
I want to feel the grass under my feet and nap in the lawn.
I want to squeal with excitement when I hear the ice cream truck coming and run in my bare feet to it.
Today, I really don’t want to be an adult.