As we all progress towards the impending doom of old age (translation: any age after twenty-one), people tend to handle the reality of it in different ways. Let's face it: once you reach that precipice, life demands that you pull on your big kid pants and look responsibility in the eye with a nicely tailored resume and an enviable credit score. Some grab the bull by the horns and jump right in--it's like they were born to be adults. However, if you're like me, you see this arrangement approaching and run in the opposite direction at a pace that would give Usain Bolt whiplash.

It's not that I don't want to accept the responsibility of adulthood. The ability to provide for oneself and be a productive member of society is incredibly empowering. I think what frightens me is the idea of feeling like I have to sacrifice parts of my childhood in order to function properly as an adult-- that there comes a time when we are all expected to look at the things that once brought us joy and consider them to be "childish."

Well, I'm here to tell you that's rubbish.

If there has ever been a person in your life that has told you your obsession with Disney movies is silly, your safety blanket is unnecessary, or your pillow pet purchase is "extra," then they aren't seeing the bigger picture. There lies within us all a special place for the things we held dear when we were young, and in some cases, they become objects that help define and embellish one's personality. And if you were to try and stifle a part of yourself that brings you sentimental happiness, it's as if you're denying an integral part of who you are.

So if watching the Powerpuff girls after a hard day at work helps you wind down, don't think twice about it. If belting out the lyrics to "I'll Make A Man Out of You" with your squad in the car gives you life, then let them stare. Hold onto those pieces of you, for they will give you some of your fondest memories.

As I write this, I can't help but think as to how the idea for this article formed. There was a swingset at a local park, and I was immediately drawn to it. Yet as I approached, a sign stopped me in my tracks stating "Playground use for children ages 12 and under." Part of me thought, oh you shouldn't get on it. You're over the age limit and people will judge. But a bigger voice said So what? Enjoy yourself. Be you.

And I did.

I still visit that swing-set regularly, and some of my purest, most carefree feelings are manifest within that piece of playground equipment. I'm twenty-three years old, I seek out swing sets, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

So what's the moral of this story? Embrace your inner child. Never let it go. Trust me when I say those were some of the most effortlessly happy years of your life. And it's okay to let them live on...especially when you're seventy and know all the words to Frozen's "Let it Go" before your granddaughter. Now that's impressive.