Grow Up? I'd rather Grow Inward

Witty Banter

So today’s topic is based on growing up. This really speaks to me because—you know when people say, “Grow up, you’re not a child anymore,” or when someone tells me I’m mature? Well, I can’t be mature in some things. Not because I refuse to, but because I can’t let the child within me get buried in the darkness. That child is the soul entity keeping my emotions alive. Why do we keep it alive? What does that child within really show us? That is what I want to answer today. So, let's get to business.

Growing up, Growing out

As children, we are like freshly inked pages- blank, curious, ready to be written on. The world is a giant storybook, and we turn its pages with wide eyes, fingers stained with wonder. Every puddle is an ocean, every stranger a potential companion in a secret game.

But as we grow- between exams and deadlines, between heartbreaks and responsibilities- the ink starts to fade. Society hands us highlighters and erasers, teaches us which parts of ourselves to underline, which to cross out. Slowly, our vivid scribbles are replaced with neat bullet points. We learn to trade our questions for instructions, our dreams for deadlines.

We become cautious. Practical, something that we call "mature". We learn how to survive, how to fit in, how to say the right things at the right times. Slowly but surely the child within starts fading away, its purpose has been stripped away by us. In the process, we leave the child behind, all alone — not by force, but by forgetting.

The Echo Within

But that child doesn't fade away. It stays put in a corner of our mind- remaining quiet, gentle, waiting. . Like an echo, they linger in unexpected moments: when we laugh uncontrollably, when a stranger offers unexpected kindness, when we stare at the stars longer than we intended. They are in our dreams, our hopeful thoughts, in the moments we love and when we really care for others. In the moments when we ask “what if?” instead of “what now?” In the tiny rebellion against routine, the smile at a silly thought, the courage to begin again when failure looms.

This echo from within is not a weakness. They are the source of resilient strength in everyday life. In the dark, cold world they are the source of our curiosity. Hope in the face of failure. Light, even when all seems dark. That child is the lantern we carry through the tunnels of life. Their flame may flicker, but it never dies.

The Compass to Uncertainty

Curiosity is the compass of the child. They walk not with maps but with magnifying glasses, inspecting the details others step over. They chase butterflies not to catch them, but to understand the way their wings shimmer in sunlight.

As adults, we swap magnifying glasses for rearview mirrors. We look back more than we look closely. We scroll instead of stare. We survive instead of explore. We prefer to have concrete answers than asking questions, prefer straightforward answers rather than twisted questions.We stop asking questions because answers feel safer, and because the world tells us we should already know. But certainty is a cage, curiosity is a door.

The child within us reminds that we don't need to have it all figured out. In this world asking the right questions rather than knowing the right answer. t invites us to stay students of life — to listen, to explore, to unlearn and relearn. Whether it’s picking up a new hobby, traveling to a new place, or simply watching the clouds drift, curiosity is how we stay awake to the miracle of being alive.

The echo within is a sign to really explore ourselves. The curiosity within a child asks silly but thought provoking questions like "How fast can I run?", "How many books I can read?. These questions really make us question ourselves which we tend to forget. Maybe we must listen to that voice and push ourselves, know our limits. 

The Hope within

Hope is the kite of the child. It flies even when the sky is grey, dancing against the wind, its string held tightly by tiny fingers that refuse to let go.

Children hope with reckless abandon. They believe and hope for happy endings, a hopeful tomorrow after a failed present. Adulthood teaches us caution. We become guarded, because hope once betrayed can hurt. But without hope, we stagnate. Without hope, we stop growing.The child within us teaches us to have hope- not blindly, but bravely. To believe that change is possible, loving someone is worth the risk, every failure is not a stop but a bend in our journey. Hope doesn’t promise comfort. It promises movement. And the child in us wants to move, to dance, to run toward the unknown, even when it’s scary. This hope teaches us to live our life- not in fear, but with an open heart.

Conclusion

The child within us is not a phase to outgrow, but is fabric woven that shows who we truly are. They are not behind us, but within us—our original language, our forgotten rhythm.

To reclaim this means, opening the long closed off room somewhere within us once again, and flood it with light of hope. It is to give ourselves permission to color outside the lines again.

It is to remember that we are not machines built for productivity, but souls made for wonder.

We are gardens- not spreadsheets. Constellations - not graphs. The child within us is like a wildflower, not watered for a long time but still not gone- growing through the cracks, simply asking to be seen.