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Conference Assistant and Event Hostess @ Bingham University
Abuja, Nigeria
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In My Head, I’m 16
<p>In my head, I am sixteen.</p><p>I know.</p><p><br/></p><p>The mirror says sixty-two….</p><p>My hands say it too.</p><p>My knees complain when I climb the stairs.</p><p>And these days, people call me “Ma”.</p><p>Sometimes I turn around just to see who they are talking to.<br/></p><p>Because surely, it cannot be me.</p><p>I swear I was sixteen just yesterday.</p><p>Jeez… I remember my first crush.</p><p>The way I could see him from across the room and suddenly forget what I was saying.<br/></p><p>I remember my first kiss.</p><p>My friends.</p><p>Our silly songs.</p><p>The clothes we wore.</p><p>The afternoons that felt like they would never end.</p><p>And Back then, we had time…</p><p>Sooo much time.</p><p>We didn’t know how quickly it could go.</p><p><br/></p><p>Now, when I want to call one of my friends,</p><p>I remember she is gone.</p><p>Another is gone too.</p><p>Another is still here,</p><p>but she no longer remembers me.</p><p><br/></p><p>Sometimes I wonder if growing old is not just losing people,</p><p>but losing the little pieces of yourself that only existed with them.</p><p><br/></p><p>And yet, here I am.</p><p><br/></p><p>Still sixteen.</p><p>Just… sixty-two.</p><p><br/></p><p>I still like pretty dresses.</p><p>I still like my skirts short.</p><p>I still like my face bright with makeup.</p><p><br/></p><p>But now someone looks at me and says,</p><p>“Ma, at your age?”</p><p><br/></p><p>At my age?</p><p>Which age abeg?</p><p>What is “my age” supposed to look like?</p><p><br/></p><p>Am I supposed to stop liking pretty things just because my face has changed?</p><p>Am I supposed to dress quietly because my hair is grey?</p><p>Am I supposed to become less of a woman just because I have become an older one?</p><p><br/></p><p>Sometimes I look in the mirror</p><p>and search for the girl I used to be.</p><p>She’s still there.</p><p>A little tired.</p><p>A little hidden.</p><p><br/></p><p>But there.</p><p><br/></p><p>And maybe that is the strange thing about getting old.</p><p>You don’t wake up one morning and feel sixty-two.</p><p>You just keep living.</p><p>Sixteen becomes twenty.</p><p>Twenty becomes thirty.</p><p>Children grow.</p><p>Friends leave.</p><p>Faces change.</p><p>And somehow,</p><p>you are still you.</p><p>Just carrying more years.</p><p><br/></p><p>So yes,</p><p>I am sixty-two.</p><p>I know that.</p><p><br/></p><p>But somewhere inside me, I feel like there is still a girl that is sixteen</p><p>waiting for tomorrow,</p><p>laughing too loudly,</p><p>falling in love too easily,</p><p>and thinking she has all the time in the world. 🌍 </p>
In My Head, I’m 16
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Blushtales
Blushtales
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