Growing up.It sounds terrifying.Aging becomesjust the shattering of naiveté’s shell and loss ofchildishness.No more throwing food at yourfriend,no more weird conversations about asparagus attwo in the morning,no more running around in the rainand screaming,“you can’t catch me,”in a squeaky voice.The world,once seen as a large bruised peach and you asthe content ant,seems to suck all the vitality out of yoursoul like a vacuum cup.Life seems to cruelly whisper,“Igot you.”But growing up is part of the life cycle.We can call itruthless,devouring,and cursed but in the end,there’s no Growing up.It sounds terrifying.Aging becomingjust the shattering of naiveté’s shell and loss ofchildishness.No more throwing food at yourfriend,no more weird conversations about asparagus attwo in the morning,no more running around in the rainand screaming,“you can’ t catch me,”in a squeaky voice.The world,once seen as a large bruised peach and you asthe content ant,seems to suck all the vitality out of yoursoul like a vacuum cup.Life seems to cruelly whisper,“Igot You.”But growing up is part of the life cycle.We can call itruthless,devouring,and cursed but in the end,there’s no