I feel like an old man sometimes.

Being in college has gotten me thinking about a lot of stuff. Like being an adult. What that responsibility means. I like to think of myself as like Peter Pan. Not in a creepy Michael Jackson way. I’m just saying: I don’t wanna grow up.

But you know the sad truth, I’m not even sure I know what that means. Is it when you’re done growing? When you’re out of high school? When you’re at college? When you’ve had sex? When you have hair in places you didn’t have hair before? Maybe it’s dealing with sadness. The maturity that comes with grief. When somebody close to you dies. When you’ve had your heart broken.

And the thing that scares me about that- if it’s the heart breaking makes you older- I must be so grown up.

I remember the first time I felt my heart breaking, like actually felt physical sadness. I can’t remember exactly how old I was, but it was when my mother told me that Santa Claus wasn’t real. I mean, I’d kinda figured for a while now but actually hearing the words from her mouth, it was so definite and cold. As if each word she uttered stripped the world of a little more magic.

Cue the preteen angstery.

I felt so grown up feeling so betrayed. This must be what being grown up is like. Realizing that the adults don’t have the answer, there is no magic in the world, Simple Plan is the best band ever, you know.

Turns out there’s a difference between being grown up and growing up.

There was a day. I was in love with this girl, but the day was bad. Can’t remember exactly what it was but I was driven to the point of tears. I doubted the world, and the whole heart breaking Santa truth came flooding back. I told my father about how the beauty and the magic of the world was ruined when we grow up or something silly like that. And he said to me the wisest thing.

“Paris,” he said, “When you look at [That girl you love], you feel something, right? Now, I could tell you the chemistry of it. I could explain to you all the details of your eyes taking in light and flipping the image and sending information to your brain and your brain sending signals and releasing hormones to the rest of your body. Now does that make what you’re feeling any less real? Or beautiful?”

And I said shoo.

He was right. And I’ve come to realize, being grown up isn’t realizing magic isn’t real, it’s believing in it anyways. And let me tell you, a lot of these adults aren’t so growed up.

So maybe it won’t be so bad after all. I can vote. I can buy cigarettes and pornography. I can’t get into Neverland anymore. Can’t find the portal into Narnia.

But yeah. I believe in Santa Claus.