Qu’est-ce que tu veux faire quand tu seras grande? What do you want to be when you grow up?
A fashion stylist.
A freelance writer.
A public relations practitioner.
In French, when we mean grown up, we say grand. Big.
Some people are all or nothing, nothing or all. Adulthood forced itself on me rather than me falling into it.
And you know what?
I hate it.
I hate being responsable and raisonnable. I hate having to compromise my impulses for a paycheck.
My heart is a wild horse that has been put away in a pen and forced to run races for the benefit of other people. My heart is kicking against the door. “Get out! Get out!”
I want to be a wild horse again.
But there is rent to pay, and food. There are things that grown-ups do that need to be done. Pay your debts. Invest your money so that one day, one day so far away that you may not even reach it, you can live like a wild horse again.
This pen is suffocating, stifling. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I only feel free when I run, but now I run with someone on my back, someone bridling me and hitting me so I go faster for them. It’s not running anymore. It’s not fun anymore.
I long for my neverending prairie of possibilities, the infinite field of the unknown and the undefined. I want to feel the grass of impulse whipping against my flank, not wait for the fodder of responsibility to be shoved in my trough.
A free, wild horse.