Growing Up

I don't want to grow up. I want to go back to elementary school where I wore tights and little frilly dresses. Where we were all friends and there was no teasing. I want to go back to the times when I played with Barbies all day and slept with my teddy bear in my old room with the pink walls and flowery sheets. I wish that I could take life and put it on re-wind. I don't want to worry about a job, or college, or driving, or what people think of me, or shaving, or my period, or anything. I just want to go back to 8. To third grade. To Girl Scouts. To all of those times and places in the pictures and memories from so long ago. The pictures and memories that are fading, slipping away. I don't want them to be pictures and memories, past. I want them to be now, today. I want to be that little girl in pigtails waving goodbye to her daddy as he goes to work every morning. I want to be that little girl who goes to daycare every day to play Barbies with her best friends, her friends who consist of the whole grade. I want to be little. I want a night light.