being in a room full of screaming, running, jumping, hyperactive middle school kids is really surreal. I, standing like a ferocious giant, filled with my years of experience and wisdom.. felt really awkward, and I'm not afraid to say it. I felt depressed. They're just all so innocent. they arn't scarred with heartbreak and they don't have to worry about gravimetric stoichiometry and elipse equations. I'd overhear their little conversations and they'd say the weirdest, most random things, and I'd remember a time where I didn't have to watch what I said. I remember when my dances consisted more of standing around with my click, and not very much moving to the music.
strangely, I miss it.

I find that in my writing, all I can talk about (and in my life, all I can think and dream about) is growing up and getting older, and I've always been in such a hurry to move away and take care of myself. now, I'm not so sure. I feel as if sometimes I'm too serious, and I could be a tad bit more immature, more spirited and a lot more "random". I realized that's there's only a year and a half left of my youth, and it didn't hit me until I was in a room filled with, well, actual kids ("tweens", if you must) They're old enough to not have to hold their mother's hand but young enough to be considered sweet and innocent. I used to be that young. That was the best time of my life. A time when I could be friends with all sorts of boys, without the awkward sexual tension. A time when you didn't have to worry about intense jealousy, backstabbing best friends, boyfriends, or lack there of.

It was also weird, watching these little kids (in an appropriate way, mind you!), I could instantly tell who they'd become once they'd hit high school. I could tell which one's would be the obnoxious jocks. The preppy girls. The slutty, preppy girls. Also, the ones that won't fit in at all, and would try really hard to. My heart ached for them, I knew what it was like. This really overweight girl with a really cute sweater, oh how I just wanted to hug her, and tell her that she'll have a growth spurt and it will all work out fine. (well, that's what happened with me, anyway).