I’ve started drinking my anger and swallowing my pride Uncomfortable at first and then arriving
like bitter wine the taste for which I developed over time
Hurtful words inside my mouth melt into saliva exactly like my melting affections for the wrong people and I swallow again

Characteristic swing showcases by my mood on the trapeze of my temper no longer entertain my father each time he asks me if I could teach him Instagram Now I just smile and I tap tap until he says he understood but I know he didn’t

I’m understanding the difference between
wanting and needing and having and finding and deserving and winning and hustling and struggling
Oh man, it’s a web!
But I hammock on it
because…what else can I do, right?

I will run to the bathroom to cry
if you deny
my heartfelt proposal for a coffee date
But I promise you,
I will not get defensive
I will not snap
Because lover’s block and writer’s block
don’t drown me anymore
in the cyclical toxicity
of not eating for days,
of crying in bed with a napkin in my mouth
and wishing I was in Antartica dug inside snow
or in the Himalayas buried under a rock

I’ve started understanding my father’s lack of attention,
my mother’s mood swings,
her hotflashes and their consequences
I accommodate them in between my mood swings
like my favourite sandwich
that I took so long to learn to make

You see, grandmother taught me to jump ropes to grow taller
Now, I make my temper jump ropes
so I’m no longer short tempered

All this you know know how?
Because at 24, I realised that I had grown up
I no longer spin mindlessly with the circular motion of Earth
Because I’ve found my center
I hated growing up all this while
but growing up loved me
It added years to my life, and beauty to my being
in ways I never thought I deserved

Now,
I’m finally okay with growing up
Because if I’m aging to be
so nice
and so considerate
and so respectful,
then growing up isn’t so bad afterall, right?