All the King's horses, And all the King's men Couldn't put Humpty together again!

Parents seem to be very confused when it comes to treating you like a child or an adult. When you want to go out on a road trip you seem to be reduced to a small baby and at times when things are demanded of you, you morph into an adult. These thoughts seems to wrap around my brain and are slowly tightening, forcing me to define the exact meaning of maturity. The heaviness of this word burdening the ones who have attained it while the "less fortunate" desperately await it.

The concept of maturity seems very distorted to me especially in recent times. In most cultures age is considered to be a proof of your maturity level an ideology I strongly disagree with. 

I was watching this documentary on a news channel about a small Syrian boy, nine years of age. He was playing out in the muddy sand while a chopper hovered about his head. The boy got suspicious and decided to run home when the chopper decided to bomb the area. He woke up with a crying adult brother on his side and one leg missing. He turned to his brother, wiped his tears and promised him that he would stand up again. He told his brother that even though his leg was missing his spirit and will to live was still intact. 

And at that moment while I was staring at the screen into this little boy's eyes I realized that from playing in the mud to running back home and waking up with a devastated older brother and an amputated leg, the boy had grown far more than age could measure.

It's the situations that we are placed in and what we make of it that defines us. It forces us to grow up most times than what people assume is a gradual step into adulthood. 

Increasing broken homes,hearts and spirits; betrayal, jealousy, war, disasters and the unsuccessful attempts at keeping up with the pace of this fast changing world, force us to grow up and face reality. 

And as I see pictures of 13 year old's splashed across my Facebook wall indulging in activities that have a legal limit imposed on them,  read articles on elementary school children being raped and watch sword and guns replace balloons and toys in the hopes for revenge to substitute for all the pain the world has put them through, I question our actions and judgment as adults. 

Don't judge a book by it's cover. It's the pages that have worn out and entire chapters of most innocent lives that have gone missing.