Sure I can drive. Sure I'm in advanced classes. Sure I'm already taking college classes, I have been since sophomore year. Sure I can write serious things and actually complete fairly decent stories. Sure I can write a 10 page paper in a matter of hours, and do research on the most obscure topic because I have to. Sure I know how to differentiate and integrate and find limits, and sure I can tell you a million things about US history and literature. Sure I can label the human body using the actual terms, not just neck and head and leg. Sure I can balance chemical equations and solve for molarity and molality. But none of that matters yet.
I'm stilll a kid. I color with crayons and watch Care Bears on Saturday nights, and I play board games like Candyland. I write stories about far off places, not because I want to be a writer or because I want people to read them, but because it's good for the imagination and it helps me escape. I still have toys sitting on my desk, and books on my bookshelf that are about Winnie the Pooh and soccer. My binders have stickers on them, and my locker has stuffed animals and juice in it. I play nursery rhymes and TV theme songs on the piano, and I read Seventeen and CosmoGirl because I can. I still listen to Raffi songs and sleep with stuffed animals and cabbage patch dolls.