Boulder sandwich

Twenty- four years of age.

Such a weird time.

I turn my nose up at everyone younger than me. They just don’t understand. They haven’t been there yet, they just can’t know.

Meanwhile, I still get scolded for my ignorance and lack of experience. With every scoff thrown in my direction, the overwhelming urge to yell boils higher.

I want that recognition. Tell me I’m doing a great job. Be proud of where I’m at instead of where I’m not. Times are different, but I’m in a comparable place.

I’ve struggled, I’ve lost, planning, moving, adjusting. It’s not anything new to me, despite your callousness. The look on your face is as annoying as ever.

Am I selfish? Am I delusional? Maybe you’re right, I'm just a child.

I tried making every decision that you hadn’t, but for my sake, and I had a great time doing it.

Still judged for them, but you’re safe from your mistakes.

Criticized, never.

Humanized, whenever.

Who am I? A daughter, or a peer?