White Clouds

A few weeks ago I discovered my first white hair. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown as I reevaluated my life at twenty-seven years gorgeous. Today: At twenty-eight and admittedly out of hindsight, I spotted this ghastly haunting ghost once again and decided to pull it out.

 

Exhibit A: The Culprit

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Do you remember how old you were when you discovered your first white hair? If you have even discovered one as of yet.

I know I have nothing to complain about since I am still in my twenties. Late or not, I am still in my mother fucking twenties. The issue is this “nuisance” only ruins my day and tatters my mind with nonsense about getting older and going no where.

I honestly look at my reflection and the first thought that comes to mind is youth. I still feel young. This is probably because at heart I am young in so many ways. I am immature in various lights. I enjoy gaming, cosplay, trolling, getting drunk, picnics, parks, pranks, terribly low budget horror movies. I love trick-or-treating, Christmas mornings, caroling, group chats about random fucking clips and memes. I love it all.

I still jam to 90s pop and sing/scream it at the top of my lungs.

I still laugh at other people’s embarrassments.

I still order Happy Meals.

I still whine like a massive grumpers when my mommy wakes me up too early.

I still fall asleep during Sunday Mass.

I still wish upon a shooting star.

I still believe true love exist.

I still wear my “Christmas Pajammies” the eve of.

I still get super excited when a new Pixar film is made.

I still love planes and trains, and dinosaurs.

I still make mud pies and ride carousels.

 

More importantly, I still believe in magic.

I always have.

I always will.

 

I do not know if it is the pressures of social media, my mother or just condition responses to make me feel as if I am far too old to continue down the path of “fun” much longer however, morning such as these I am reminded “out of mind, out of sight” is truth. Once I plucked that bad boy out and tossed it in the trash I feel youthful once again.

I really have to stop allowing my parents, peers and matters of vanity dictate the velocity in which I choose to travel down the road of Jayde’s life.

P.S. I have my cats. I do not care if I ever become that catshit bat crazy old lady. I have my cats and I always have my adventures. ALWAYS. 

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