I Was Once Twelve, and I'll Never Be Twelve Again

I’ve heard people say that I never had a childhood.
But I did have one between the ages of 11-13.
That’s when it started and that’s when it ended.

If you read between the lines, you’ll realize
that’s when I entered high school.

Yesterday, I learned that one of my friends,
who I thought was 25, was actually 17 or so.
It explained a lot.

Like how he was so poor at grammar,
and dismissive of important societal functions.
Such as jobs.

The funny thing is, before I found out, I just thought
that he was a really immature adult
who would maybe grow old
never learning a single thing.

His immaturity never struck me to be an indication of his actual age.

When I was 12 I mixed orange paint with water
and tried to drink it.
Now, teenagers are supposedly eating tide pods.
They’re roughly the same age as me,
give or take a few.

And now I’ll never eat anything that wasn’t meant to be consumed.
I am more mature in that way,
but less in others.

Every day, I am at crossroads.
Sometimes, I think these choices matter,
and sometimes I don’t.
That’s another crossroad.

██████, who said he was 25 and unemployed,
and who was really 17 and attending high school in America.

And I am older and educated in Canada,
ending my childhood years ago,

thinking that years later,
I might come to understand more than I do now.