Papa, Mama,
I grew up.
But it hurts. So much.
I want to go back to the earlier years.
I want you to buy me tons of books.
I want you to clap for me when I’m playing the piano, even so horribly.
That was ten years ago, maybe even more, but still.
I want you to cut me fruits and make me tea for my snack while I’m studying.
I want you to give me books while I’m eating on the dining table.
I, strangely, want you to ask about my boyfriend. I love him so dearly, I can’t wait for you to be excited about him.
I want you to let me stay in this status quo, where you guys are still alive, cracking jokes about me and my friends, talking about conspiracy theories and recent happenings.
How long will it last?
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