is this giving up or getting on?

the scope of my responsibility continues to change only i fail to acknowledge it. though i still manage to make do anyway. and of course my mom is right. being ten is better than being an adult. being an adult is boring. and every time i have a chance to rest, i am a child.

i had firm ideas of reality. i had firm ideas of magic and circumstance. i was right and i knew i would never give these up. i worry that my reality has changed. i worry that i am accepting things i have no business accepting. i worry that i am giving up a dream. i worry that i gave up and into the stream. maybe it's a matter of survival. maybe it's part of all that time spent keeping alive. maybe it's a thing called growing up. but every time i rest, i am a child.

maybe i'd still have my dreams if i didn't keep running out of time and falling asleep.

i'm not done yet... i never really give up on anything.