The lost art of adulthood

I have found that being an adult involves a lot more paying of bills and a lot less eating ice-cream in my pyjamas than I envisioned when I was younger.
I wish someone had told me, as I rushed to be more sophisticated, more grown up, more adult that this is what it would be like and I might have taken my time getting here. A lot of being an adult seems to be faking it until you either work out what's going or someone calls you out for being the fraud you feel like most of time. I still can't help looking around when someone calls for a grown up until it dawns that's me, I'm the grown up. I can't help wondering if that feeling ever really goes away.

 I think I pictured myself more together, my life in a neater order and not hastily thrown together as I do my best to cope with adult challenges without consulting my mum too often. Then again I also use to discuss sharing a house with several close friends without even contemplating children or partners. If that had turned into a reality , it would be a lot more awkward than a teenage me had daydreamed about. 

Life as an adult involves a whole lot of responsibilities and consequences to every action and as one of life's perpetual worriers I find myself stressing more than I should about all of these. All I really want to do is colour in ( in my adult coloring book), eat chocolate ( without getting fat or sad) and have lots of naps. None of which are particularly adult activities but being an adult isn't everything it's cracked up to be so can you blame me for wanting to run away sometimes. 

 I'll continue to indulge my inner child, she's more than the grown up me but I'll still make time to plan for my future and do all the responsible adult things I'm supposed to.

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