Broken hearts And Broken eggs

     'cause If one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
     And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
    Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
    And you'll see me waiting for you on our corner of the street

      On Sunday, I was at Timber Ridge elementary. I haven't been there since fifth grade (when I went for like a day or two and didn't have any classes). But I remember the way it was. And I remember how the school was so big and the playground was so colorful. I remember how everything fit, from the benches to the monkey bars to the stairs. I remember how the adult teachers were stern, but kind. Perfect, at least in those small little kids eyes. The adults were always right, and there was almost no question about that. But, its different now. We are practically adults. Juniors. Seniors in two months. College in a year after. And all of those things have changed. Adults aren't perfect. Those benches are too small. The steps are too short to be comfortable. And those dreams that once fit and the Friends I once had are no longer the ones I own. I wanted to be a soldier, a politician, a king. I wanted to be famous, important, loved. I wanted to be happy.
     And am I happy? I guess so. I had a lot of fun at prom. I enjoyed the After party immensely. I've fallen in and out of love. I've got good grades. I don't have to really on drugs. I have great friends I can trust. And what do I have to complain about?: Nothing. And what do I want to be now that I'm older and more mature and those dreams and hopes have grown and died like blades of grass? Happy. Myself. Loved.