maturity

Even as a child, people always thought I was older than I actually was. There was usually somewhere between a 3-5 year maturity projection for me. Much of it probably had to do with the fact that I was bigger than any other kid in my class until middle school and even then, I was right up there with the bigger boys. I've always been told that emotionally, I seem older too; choosing to stay at home over going out to the club or partying or something.

Unfortunately, that supposed maturity hasn't really ever shown itself in my relationships. My experience in that area is limited at best, so things haven't always been easy for me. I've been more apt to keep my feelings to myself and assume things would always just eventually be better. I was more apt to secede and blow over than confront and discuss. Any discomfort was probably more evident in my face than anything I'd ever say.

And then there was someone with whom I had absolutely no problem bickering. In fact, it started as a lot of bickering, but after time, it became apparent that the things that seemed to be differences weren't really. Appreciation. Respect. Admiration. There is discourse, dialogue. I'm not afraid to speak up and defend my point of view, which isn't a problem for me in general, but in front of a pretty girl somehow exits stage left. Yet, somehow in front of those eyes, it's still no problem. Mature relationship? Who knew?

Who knows where the rabbit hole goes, but it might be fun finding out.

An Excerpt

I just stood there, leaning up against the row of washing machines parallel to the ones containing my dirty laundry. I tried to listen to music, but for whatever reason, my iPod refused to play. I was stuck; forced to listen to the constant whir of the machines while my eyes followed the rhythmic pattern of the clothes.

I just watched, eyes focused, still and intent. It reminded me of what seemed to be my life at the time. No matter how much movement there was, it was going nowhere.