When I Grow Up, I Want to Be a Kid
An endless scroll of societal pressures & the escapist effect
Long story short, I became a sort of accidental slam poet on TikTok. All born from one video in which I strung together the ever-changing fashion and beauty trends that are here as soon as they’re gone. When you say it all at once, it highlights the ridiculous verbiage to categorize the trends — blueberry milk nails, rockstar girlfriend, mob wife, old money teddy bear bronde hair, tomato girl — the list feels eerily never ending. Seems as though audiences agree as I’ve found success playing off this “brainrot slam poetry” niche.
The longer the scroll, the more we are fed. The more we are be tempted to compare, the more we want to escape. Sometimes, I don’t feel like making these adult decisions I’m faced with. Do I change my career? Well, this one person on TikTok said they did it and they have never looked back! Do I continue to pursue social media? Sometimes engagement is low, and it’s a hit to the ego, but quitters never win, right?
I don’t know about you, but in times of internal conflict, I always yearn for those simple days of childhood when everything seemed magical to my young and curious eyes. I wrote the below poem (yes, an actual poem — I don’t just share brainrot poems on TikTok) based on those haunting feelings and thoughts of nostalgia for those times that you can never quite replicate or live again.
When I Grow Up, I Want to Be a Kid
When I grow up, I want to be a kid,
Never thinking about my skin
As I look at my reflection
Do I have eyebrow blindness?
What's my facial harmony?
What can I purchase to be high maintenance to remain low maintenance?
How much money should I have saved at the age of 28?
By the way, how old do I look?
Do I look my age?
Is it time for Botox?
I'm single, but I feel too tired and jaded to seriously date.
When I grow up, I just want to be a kid
I thought
As the T-H-O-U-G-H-T thought daughter that is me
On her hot girl walk when a truck buzzed by
Leaving a trail of exhaust
That evoked nostalgic thoughts that haunt.
The scent reminded me of mornings at the bus stop
In the meticulously matched outfit that my mom so carefully picked out,
Transported back to trading pebbles at the playground as we pretend
I'm the mom, you're the dad.
When I grow up I want to be a singer
Well, I want to be a teacher
A writer
A poet
An actress
A hairstylist
A scientist.
But then I dreamt of being in high school,
Then college
Then post-grad life
Then the mid-20s
Then in my late-20s on a blazing hot day in the summer
I was yearning to be younger.
And I dreamt of the crisp fall, the first day back at school
Counting down the days to magic of Christmas, the festivities, the movies, the comfort, the warmth
Praying for a mid-winter snow day, sledding with hot chocolate breaks and scarlet cheeks
But the cold would soon get old, and I’d crave the light at the end of the tunnel that is spring's blossom
And then I’d count down the hours until school let out, dreaming of those beach days in the summer,
Two dragonflies buzzing by my curious eyes
As my mom hands me the lunch she packed
And rubs Coppertone on my sun crisped back.
It’s funny how recently I spend my time looking to the past
To those childhood memories I can’t get back,
But in the moment I was always counting down the days to growing older, feeling free,
Ah, the perfect irony.
I still carry that little girl with me in my heart
And sometimes I want to be more of her and less of me,
And I know she'd probably look at me and tell me I'm pretty.
So yeah, when I grow up I just want to be a kid,
As a woman, is that so bad to admit?