Unfortunately the quota for cute puppy births had been filled that day, so I was born human.
The first few years were as good as it got. I learnt to walk and everyone was impressed (even though I bashed my head on the coffee table a few times). I learnt to count to a hundred. Then did it backwards. My emotions were usually set to happy. Occasionally petulant. Never overwhelmed.
Recent times haven’t been as good – that’s not to say they’ve been bad. I’m still walking (though everyone is marginally less impressed). It just seems that as humans grow older they tend to worry about things more.
I’m worried about my body getting bigger because heaven forbid I take up more space than I’ve been given. I’m worried about what I’m going to do in the next pre-set stage of my life. And apparently you need money to be alive, so I guess I’m worried about that too. I no longer feel happy all the time. In fact, sometimes I find myself experiencing up to 17 emotions all in one day. That’s a development I was ill-prepared for.
There are some good things about being human though. I’ve picked flowers, pressed lips with girls, made my friends laugh so hard they form little dewdrops in their eyes. I’ve fallen in kinda love with celebrity boys, got paint under my nails, woken up at sunrise.
If I don’t hold on to these moments I fear the world will swallow me whole. So I clasp onto them tight and let them simmer in my fist. Because they’re precious moments that were designed just for humans.
17 years ago I was brought into this world. If I had been born a puppy I would’ve passed by now. But I’m human and I’m young and I’m stressed and tired and overwhelmed.
