Memories vs. Maturity
I remember the days when life was simple. I remember the days when you could make friends just by sharing your crayons with someone else. I remember the days when recess was 20 minutes long and scrapes meant you were the toughest of the tough. I remember the days when there was no homework, when math was just 2+2 and writing was just learning how to get your ABC’s on paper. I remember.
I know today that life’s not simple. Now those happy words that we use to call to each other are trodden over by ruder words and thoughts. Now homework is using the Pythagoreon Theorem (what?) and learning the defintions of words like satire and allusion (or blogging). The outside draws our attention, and those minutes of freedom are squashed by the bell, signaling the start of classes again.
Those friends? The ones that you could lose or make by sharing crayons? That, like anything else, is also more complicated. Once you’ve got a good group you’re set for life (during middle school), and it’s tough to let others try and join your clique. Guys bang shoulders and make really gross comments, and girls walk around like a giant perfume cloud and talk amongst themselves.
Now people expect you to be mature. If you get in a fight with a friend, you can’t just sit down and cry. If you don’t pass a class, it’s no one’s fault but yours. Now that we’re older, we have to contend with the level of difficulty we faced in first grade, except what we did then seems like nothing. But we’re still kids. We’re still immature, we still tease, we still have our own little groups.
Growing up is hard. You have acne, sometimes get overemotional, and you have to balance a boy/girlfriend with school. But now you get priviliges, like having a phone or getting a higher allowance. These may not be the greatest years, but they aren’t the worst. Although I bet everyone would feel better if we had milk and cookies once in a while. 
