Dear Adulthood,

I am writing to you in regards to a recent decision I have made. I quit.

Paying bills, waking up at 4 a.m., buying groceries, returning Redbox movies on time and wearing pants are all things of the past. These are all duties that I no longer want.

It is unclear to me what I once thought was so enticing about this life. But it has recently been made clear to me that I don’t want it anymore. Responsibility is applauded, but all I want is freedom from all adult-y things.

All I want is to go back to the days when my dad would push me on the swing at the park and I would reach for the clouds which were colored like cotton candy. To the days when my mom was never more than three minutes away from being available to prepare a peanut butter and honey sandwich for me. To the days when work meant putting the silverware away or dusting the bookshelves and piano. To the days when I couldn’t eat dairy and only ate the cones when the family went out to ice cream. To the days when getting a movie meant walking through rows of VHS boxes at the movie store.

Consider this my resignation. This is in effect now. I see no need for a two week notice.

You can find me coloring in my blanket fort with uncooked ramen and a large spoonful of peanut butter. That is, if you can slay the dragon or not be swallowed up by the living room lava monster.

Buh-bye.