Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Week 31 — Coming of Age

Week 31/52

I've had this concept in my mind for a few weeks now, and while it isn't a spectacular shot, it came out exactly like I wanted it to: soft and contained. Which is exactly what this concept was about.

I suffer from an enormous Peter Pan complex. I don't like growing up. I don't mind the concept of getting physically older, but having to be adult and mature and act properly and everything makes me want to shoot myself in the head. It's like I wasn't made for it; I was made to spend half my time daydreaming and imagining possibilities, stories, photos, places I want to see and people I want to visit. I was made to love things deeply and strongly, to laugh out loud in the street and jump and clap when I like something. I was made to smile giddily.

I wasn't made for the formality of adulthood. For the distance between people, for the lack of touch. And this is the concept I wrapped this shot around; the lack of physical contact.

I'm very touchy-feely. I'm the kind of person who'll hug you out of nowhere, who'll try to hold your hand or play with your hair if you're sad. And I know that's not appropriate at my age, now. I'm supposed to be this proper woman, to comfort people with a nod or a pat on the forearm. I'm supposed to keep a respectable distance between myself and others, which is something we didn't have as kids, as teenagers. And it troubles me, because my first impulse (which was radically augmented by the birth of my sister) is to hug people. So I spend half my time telling myself 'not everyone is a cuddle bug like you are, not everyone likes to be touched' and keeping my hands in my pockets so I can be the "adult" everyone wants me to be.

I don't know. Maybe I'm being childish about this, but it's one of the things that bother me the most about growing up. What sense does it make, to not be able to give and receive physical comfort just when things get hard? Because when you're a kid, you might not notice, but the world is pink and bubbly. The teenage years aren't the worst; they may seem like they are, but they aren't. The worst part is when you have to deal with work and bills and health issues and the life that everyone expects you to live. That's when it gets tough. And that's exactly when you're not supposed to be comforted.

I don't know. This is a very... stream of consciousness kind of thing, so I'll just shut up now.

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