Crayola

My mom always told me not to write on the walls with crayons... But I did.

I think after she yelled at me and spanked me on the bum, it made me realize something, I needed to grow up.

So next time I'd just be more sneaky and write on it somewhere that she won't see it... How grown up was I?

Pretty soon I stopped doing even that because that was so immature. I needed to act older, because acting older was feeling older and feeling older was the key to success, right? Wrong. I wish I could go tell myself that growing up is the prettiest trap every single person in the world falls in. Until you get sprayed in the face with cold, raw responsibility, which you'll have to be the one to cook it, because that's no longer your mother's job.

If I could give advice to the kids with crayons in their backpacks and nothing but the love of pb&j in their hearts and are missing approximately half of their teeth... It would be to write on the walls! Smear your oily little skin in the texture so deep that even mister clean will be scratching his multimillion dollar bald head telling your mom "This mess is bigger than the both of us." In fact... Color on your skin! Make your tattoos mean something and be proud of what you created!

Scrape your knees and cry when you get hurt! Because when you grow up, that's not socially acceptable. You will not be allowed to cry as an adult.

I want you to swing on the swing so high and jump off just to see what it is like to fly! Speaking of fly, go fly a kite! I am one of the few deprived children who still don't know what that's like to watch a decorated piece of paper rip roar through the wind.

Get into your mothers makeup and ruin her lipstick! Smear it into the tile grout and smile every time you walk over it because the memories are sand on the beach you first walked on, and no matter where else you go, that beach under your feet will always be the sand to take a piece of your heart with it.

Giving up your crayons is a special way of saying you gave up your adolescent ghost, and moved on to sleep in a body that can't run without holding your boobs because they hurt so bad they'll probably fall off. Having trouble getting off the ground because your bones are stiff. Not being able to jump on a trampoline without peeing yourself...

I still often remove the posters on my wall to discover new artwork behind old memories. Sometimes reminiscing is the best way to stay young.

I'm lucky enough to have some color still left on my skin, the tattoos of childhood never seemed to wash off of my shoulder blade, and for that, I'm proud. However, where did my tattoo on my arm, or cheek or even my belly go? It seemed to have rubbed off after I thought it was cool to wear a bra...

If I had one thing I'd like to tell 'The Man'?

Give me back my damn crayons and get off my ass! I have some walls that need decorating...