Nobody ever tells you how lonely it is to grow up. Dreams become what may have been and the friendships you swore would last forever have dribbled into coffee dates once every three years. All the passion for adventure is tempered by the reality of responsibility until years have flown by and that spring break banger never happened. You exchange tequila for rosé and the woos over loud bass for a gentle conversation to soft jazz. It all looks so glamorous to those who aren’t yet there, but you can’t go back once the longing sets in. Everything just gets lost in the noise. I am becoming lost in the noise. 

I lay here wondering what I dreamed for my life as a little girl–surely not this. We were going to change the world. My partner would  be kind, gentle, and fun as well as handsome and charming. I wonder when I let the fairytales go. A part of me still yearns for it, but the realist in me stomps at the coals of the fire in a desperate attempt to stop being disappointed. Love is such a loaded word, meant to stave off the loneliness, yet it seems like all it does is dress it up in that pretty mask of noise.