About Growing Up

I didn’t post anything yesterday. I should have done in the evening.

Within four hour of last evening, I was blamed by uncle, for both good and bad reasons, in his unique explosive way. Depressed enough, I called Mom and Daddy. As usual, I told them that everything was fine, laughing a lot to ensure them that I was as happy as always. At one moment, I suddenly had this weird feeling of being grown-up—I am no longer a little girl who tells Daddy whatever happens in my life. Actually, I stopped doing that long time ago.

Later, JJ and I had a long talk until 2:30 in the morning. This was the first one we had since I came here. We talked about people around us, about the uncertainties of life and why life was always shy of perfection. We talked like philosophers, both being able to develop a complete theory to explain people around us, ourselves and our life. Or like doctors, who can always come up with a seemingly perfect diagnosis of our life in such a talk. Life makes sense, a lot.

I woke up early in the morning, and could not go back to sleep. The process of growing up sometimes is painful, I thought. You are maturing when you no longer expect people to be in the same mentality as yours, times after you find them turn out to be totally different from your expectation. You grow up when you no longer to take people’s words at the face value, because they don’t mean what they say. You grow up and become old when your sense of self-worth ebbs, and realize that you may be not the center of your life and you cannot control everything.