“Hey, World. Don’t Hurt Me.”

Birth. I don’t think many of us really REALIZE how insane the process of birth is, and I don’t think I’m going to even try to get into it, but the basic idea is this—transition. We go from complete safety within our mother’s womb to the big bad world, within what seems like an instant. How is that fair? Did I ask for this? Shit, I had it so good. I’m not complaining, no no. I’m glad my mom decided to raise me, feed me, occasionally scare the literal HELL out of me. It made me who I am today. I’d like to consider myself a decent person, and I’d like to say I have it mostly figured out. Is that the case though? Not by a long shot. It’s a journey, ya know? We find our way, slowly but surely. Or at least, that’s what I was told…

Being a kid is awesome, man. When Timon and Pumbaa sang "Hakuna Matata," I’m convinced they were talking about childhood. No worries, no responsibilities, no evil. It’s the life. Growing up was legitimately the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Puberty? Gross. Crushes? Disgusting. Angst? Okay, I’m still angsty. I PREFER TO CALL IT EDGY, THOUGH! I’M EDGY! The point is, being young is the prime of life, and I can only hope that I keep some of my kid-like qualities because there’s nothing better than the purity of childhood fun. Rolling down hills and blowing bubbles, running around without shoes, and eating so much candy on Halloween that you feel sick for two days. I told you, man. The peak of human existence.

I recently graduated high school, which for me was yet another transition. I remember sitting in that uncomfortable, squeaky, and altogether sad excuse of a seat, palms sweaty in my lap as I waited for my row to stand and head towards the stage. Earlier in the day, all 700 of us had been forced to endure hours of rehearsal. Outside. In May. In Texas. If you haven’t figured it out by now, it was scorching. But I’m getting off topic here. THERE I was, in that gross chair for the second time that day, heart pounding, lips dry, sweating underneath that cheaply made gown that was WAY too overpriced. In that moment, I felt like I was about to throw up or shit my pants. One way or another, I was about to release something. I was so damn nervous I could scream. Four years of my life had led up to this moment. I didn’t even think I’d make it for awhile there, but I had. When we were finally called up, I remember tripping once or twice in the heels I’d been advised against wearing, falling into the girl in front of me I’d seen for years, but had never actually spoken to until that day. She’d laugh and I’d blush with embarrassment. It was cool, I guess.

As I walked up those stone steps, careful to keep my balance, I thought I could pass out. Surname after surname was called out, waaaay too quick for my liking, and a part of myself wished I could run away and hide somewhere, but my feet were definitely telling me otherwise. Ow. Then, before I could even realize what was happening, my last name was called out. I scurried up to the spot they’d instructed we stand to get our diploma and get pictures taken. Turns out, I scurried a little too far, because I ended up having to backtrack a few steps, in front of thousands of people. Lovely. Mortified, I found myself speeding off the stage as soon as possible and right back to my amazing, spectacular, beautiful safety called my assigned seat. Did I mention its squeaks were like the voice of an angel?

After everyone had finally gotten their diploma, and we were all thoroughly drenched in sweat, it was time to switch our tassels from right to left, signaling we had made it. We’d graduated! As I moved my tassel and then tossed my cap up in the air, a little prematurely too, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Hey, world. Don’t hurt me.” I wasn’t a kid anymore, I was my own person. My life began in that moment. As excited as I was, I had this ping in my stomach. What next? What was I supposed to do then? Well, it turned out the next step was finding my family placed throughout the pavilion we were in. Long story short, by the time I made it out of there, I forced them to drive me home, and I ended up plopping face first down onto my bed and finally passing out, after I took off my heels of course. Pft.

I’m sure I explained that terribly, but do you get what I’m saying here? We transition all the time. There are seasons for everything. We’re born, we grow, we live. That’s just the way things are. The world is a scary place. It’s all a lot to handle, I get it, and change is hard, but fuck. Sometimes, all we can do is throw our caps in the air and say, “Hey, world. Don’t hurt me.”