Being “Too Old” for Things Was Never the Problem.

I was never “too old”.
I was just someone who knew what brought me comfort, joy, and excitement.

Liking dolls, cartoons, pop music, or colourful things past the age people expect isn’t immaturity.
It’s self-knowledge.

The pressure to outgrow joy is such a weird social rule.
As if liking things has an expiry date.
As if fun, softness, and nostalgia are things you’re meant to abandon to be taken seriously.

I didn’t stop loving things that made me happy.
I just got better at owning it.

And honestly?
That feels like growth.