The one thing that pops into my head whenever I hear the words “growing up” is: I don’t want to. Now, I know that may sound unhealthy (and maybe it is), but I don’t mean that I want to stay a child forever and never have new experiences or change in any way. What I mean is I don’t want to lose that part of myself that looks at the world with curiosity and wonder, that is unafraid to be goofy, that runs as far from cynicism as humanly possible. The older I get, the more I find myself surrounded by people who have become so jaded that having fun and being playful are looked at as qualities of the ridiculous. And at times, I have let this get to me and I start to feel inferior, as if I am somehow less of an adult because of the way I view the world. I have responsibilities, bills to pay, obligations to uphold like every other person, and I take them seriously, but I refuse to sacrifice my inner child just to be considered an adult. If I’ve begun to learn one thing over the years, it is that the purpose of living is to relish being alive. And no one does that better than a child.