I have mentioned something about finding balance before, in my article about being a fan girl. I wanted to talk about that topic again, but in terms of childhood versus adulthood.

I’m only 19 at the date of publication, so I can’t say much about adulthood. So far, it kind of sucks. Like every kid, I did spend time thinking, “I can’t wait until I’m an adult! Then I can do whatever I want whenever I want.” My mom also says that in times of trouble, I said I wanted to go back to the safe comfort of kindergarten.

I recently caught myself saying something that, in reflection, was kind of sad. I said, and I quote, “Oh 'Finding Dory' is a kid’s movie. I’m too old for that stuff. Same goes for 'Zootopia' and 'Secret Life of Pets.' I can’t be caught going to see that!”

Now, let’s take a walk down memory lane.

I was about 5 when "Finding Nemo" came out. "Finding Dory" is the long-overdue sequel of sorts to the original, which was released in the summer of 2003. That was the kindergarten I fondly remember. Pajama and Disney movie days. OK, that was preschool but they weren’t so different in my day.

I used to collect the movies. Yeah, back before everything was on demand or online. Hence, the cover photo of my partial collection, in chronological order. I have mislaid my "Toy Story" VHS and the "Shrek" VHS both went “missing” when we moved. I may or may not have been the kid that demanded to watch "Shrek" just about every day during the summer. We also used to have a binder full of DVDs, but a mouse made its nest, and I think we threw it out because, by the time of publication, it couldn’t be found.

I remember when they had a pajama-themed Spirit Day at my high school. That was the day with the highest participation. Everyone turned up in jammies and slippers. Some people brought blankets and pillows. The brave brought their stuffed animals. Maybe because we all wish we were little kids again. We want to go back to the days when, for most of us, everything was innocent and we felt so free.

My childhood was a good one. I remember a rainbow-painted bedroom. I remember three walls with shelves covered in stuffed animals. I remember a whole quarter of the den in which I had a “play room." I remember playing in the yard, my mother not forced to watch my every breathing second. I remember hanging out with friends and going to those “whole class invited” birthday parties. Those were happy memories.

Life had other plans than a happy, carefree life. I was awkward and, soon enough, an outcast among classmates. I attracted sad bullies with enough in their lives to take it out on alienated children.

We moved. Suddenly, I was really the odd one out. I “became a woman” a lot sooner than my classmates, but puberty decided to hit me like a runaway trash truck. Then, suddenly, I was a teenager. Suddenly there were conversations about maturity, what was and what wasn’t. It felt like I was sneaking around to sit down and enjoy my favorites from my childhood.

Before I was ready, I was preparing for and then suddenly in college. All at once, I was free to do as I wanted. I was almost 200 miles from my parents, and I wasn’t the only one who was just discovering this.

I had access to a Netflix account, thanks to my grandmother. I had my usual number of friends (a.k.a. none). I had an easy schedule that let me free by 4:30 p.m. at the latest. I didn’t have a job. What I’m saying is that I have the time to discover who I am. I’m also nearly free to cry while marathoning themes from TV shows like "Danny Phantom" and "Teen Titans."

I can drop the "Danny Phantom" theme on a dime, but I can’t remember when the Byzantine Era was or what that means in art history. So I have some work ahead of me. I need to find that balance I talked about before.

And you know what I say? Go see those “kid” movies. I mean, I have other reasons to leave a certain fishy sequel to the critics but I fully plan to be there opening weekend for "Incredibles 2."

Go out there and be young again, because all of us are eventually going to die.