The fire type runs the risk of burning out, of being all-consuming, and I'm worried. How long before I cool down? Before I run out of fuel? And, more importantly, what the fuck is my fuel?
Can you see what I've been dealing with here? God, and I'm gonna be a senior. A senior? What. I already did that once, I don't wanna do that again.
Or do I?
Since I started writing this I've been thinking about the good old days. I went to the off-campus meeting (dare we all forget Billy - "I can't be here tonight") and the new Chief of Police explained that (to her) the job of the Campus Police is to help usher college students through the next stage of their development. As if we're not adults already. I understand the argument that we're always growing, always going through developmental stages, but she made it seem as if she'd already gone through all the maturation the world held for her, had come out, unscathed yet fighting, and saw it as her job to nanny us. To corral us like sheep. To lead us beside cool waters and restoreth our souls...And my question is simple: who the fuck is she to to be our shepherd?
If I'm not an adult now, when will I be one? The Chief looked no older than thirty, standing up there with her dye-job and kitten heels. If she's an adult, how'd she become one? Eight years (max) older than me, and she's already gone through her trial by fire, come out of it alright?
And who says there has to be a trial anyway? Maybe Miss Chief had one, maybe she didn't. Maybe I'm not an adult, maybe I'm a half-adult, but we won't know anything until we've gone through it, right? Speculation can only go so far. At what point do we pull a William Blake and transition from songs of innocence to songs of experience?
I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say maybe, just maybe, it's when we value our experience over our innocence. When we feel like we can finally take care of ourselves, with no one holding our hand. It'd be done easier if people were willing to let go.
