25 going on 5

to my relatives, i am still that 5 year-old kid standing out on my grandmother's back porch, in his pajamas, singing "highway to the dangerzone".

today, i'm 20 years older than that version of me. i'm 4 feet taller. i have a lot more facial hair. i can drive. i've worked real jobs. i've kissed girls. i've had my heart broken. i've travelled through europe. i've been in fights. i've seen a person die right in front of me. i've graduated college. i've voted in 2 presidential elections. still, everytime i see my aunts and uncles, they remind me of a time that i don't remember, when i was much cuter, and dressed less shittily.

maybe they harken back to 5 year-old me because those memories remind them of a better time in their own lives. or maybe they don't think i've matured much in 20 years because i showed up to thanksgiving supper with a cap gun, and spoke to my cousin and roommate through walkie talkies all afternoon.

soundtrack:
the violent femmes – american music