Be Unreasonable
When I was a kid and people would ask me to be grow-up or become mature -
When I was a kid and people told me to grow up—to be mature—it always sounded like a polite way of saying: adjust. Fit in. Dull your edges. Make peace with the rules. It felt like a slow betrayal of me, like being asked to trade in my wildness for a seat at the big boy table. I didn’t like any of it. Still don’t.
However, in my 30s through the smoke and blood and grind of building things from nothing, I started to see a different definition of maturity. One that made sense to me.
It’s this: I, and I alone, am responsible for my happiness and my dreams. Nobody’s coming. Not my parents, not my friends, not even my partner. That doesn’t mean I won’t get help—oh god, I’ve needed it.
And I’ve asked for it, begged for it, received it. But the weight is mine to carry. The dream is mine to guard. That’s what growing up means to me now. Being responsible for the things that set my soul on fire.
And believe me—it’s harder than it sounds.
It requires being unreasonable. Unreasonable with time, with fear, with the voice inside your head that says “take it easy” when you know damn well that ease is the fastest path to mediocrity. And I’ve chased ease before, oh yes, soft mornings and soft promises to myself that “tomorrow” I’ll burn brighter. But the fire doesn’t wait. Dreams are jealous lovers—they demand everything or they leave.
So I started treating my dreams like that—like lovers I didn’t want to lose. I fed them my mornings, my doubts, my long nights of staring at ceilings wondering if it’s all worth it. And I found that the world doesn’t open up to the careful ones. It doesn’t bloom for the ones who wait to be ready. It unfurls, petal by petal, for the mad ones, the brave ones, the ones who show up with trembling hands and say, “I’m here anyway.”
Growing up isn’t about shrinking into the shape the world gives you—it’s about expanding so wide with conviction that the world has no choice but to shift around you.
