Spoken Like A True Committment-Phobic

Why is it,
the more they want me to move ahead,
the more I want to stay put?
.. Or even step back?

I can't recall,
just what I've anticipated
from the past,
for the future.
Future from that past,
is what I'm sitting on now.
And no matter what my achievements,
I don't want it anymore.

Bring me back in time,
where things,
ain't necessarily a bed of roses.
But there were more things to do,
more places to go to,
more stuff to try.
Yet,
there were less to think about.
Everything,
was taken with a pinch of salt.
More importantly,
there were LESS RESPONSIBILITY.

Does it matter,
that I'm financially stable now?
Does it matter,
that I've travelled much, now?
Does it matter,
that I can shop for my own now?

I remember,
sitting alone in the middle
of Time Square, Millenia.
In my tees and jeans,
music blasting the ears,
hands sketching furiously,
Of anyone, anything and everything.

Absorbing the energy,
of working men and women,
during lunch hour.
With their
hurried steps,
hurried conversations,
hurried gestures.

Nonchalant to me,
the shabby teen,
cross-legged,
in the middle of the square.
Smirking at them,
their life.
Promising myself,
to never be them.

Who am I kidding?
Never being them,
means never growing up.

... I wish Neverland exists.