In a funk?
By Starling Root
QuailBellMagazine.com
QuailBellMagazine.com
You're not an infant. But sometimes you wish you were. Can't somebody just scoop you up and swaddle you? You're fragile. Your bones haven't even fused together yet. Your skeleton might as well be Jell-O, and it just needs to be nap time already. You're nostalgic for diapers. Seriously, that Gerber baby food was good.
Grow up. Smile. Get out of that funk. That's what they tell you, but you're wondering where your bib is. If it were 100 years ago, you'd still be living with your parents and society wouldn't be judging you for it. Now they call you a failure because you're not wearing the pants and slaying the dragons and shattering the glass ceiling. Nobody's here to rock you to bed. You even have to sing the damn lullaby to yourself.
It's like Dylan said: TIIIIIIIIIIIIIMES! THEY ARE A-CHAAAAAAAAAAAANGIN'!
Grow up. Smile. Get out of that funk. That's what they tell you, but you're wondering where your bib is. If it were 100 years ago, you'd still be living with your parents and society wouldn't be judging you for it. Now they call you a failure because you're not wearing the pants and slaying the dragons and shattering the glass ceiling. Nobody's here to rock you to bed. You even have to sing the damn lullaby to yourself.
It's like Dylan said: TIIIIIIIIIIIIIMES! THEY ARE A-CHAAAAAAAAAAAANGIN'!
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