Kids can be quite intimidating, and I'm not even talking about the idea of having kids myself – which, to be honest, might be just as scary. Imagine having a little version of yourself, watching them make the same mistakes you did, and on top of that, they might come up with even more exciting ways to mess things up. You wouldn't realize it's a bad idea until you've experienced it firsthand. I mean, who wants to listen to their parents anyway? Certainly not you during your teenage years.

When I say kids are scary, I mean how brutally honest they can be. They can stare at you as if they're about to strip away whatever self-confidence you have left and not care one bit. Ever been called ugly by a five-year-old kid? There goes my confidence, straight into the trash. Slam dunk. I wonder if he has X-ray vision; he seemed to see right through my facemask. Looking back, it's quite funny.

His grandma asked if I looked pretty, and I can still recall his eyes scanning me from head to toe. (I'm sorry; I didn't realize this was a fashion show. I should have worn my killer outfit – and I mean that literally.) I could still hear the seriousness in his tone as he blurted out, "She's ugly because her name sounds ugly." Oh, kid, same. I feel the same way. Embarrassed, his grandmother threw me an apologetic look, and I just laughed. I am unfazed, truly. I mean, it didn't even cross my mind to do anything to him, like drowning him in his kiddie pool and making it look like an accident. Or burying him in his backyard. Should I include his grandma? Such thoughts never crossed my mind. Believe me, it didn't.

Okay, I like kids. I just told a lie. Which one? Well, that's for you to decide. I have nothing against kids, though sometimes I find them adorable as long as they sit quietly and don't come too close or start asking questions. Ever been asked by a kid? A girl in pigtails sat in the chair across from my table and asked if I liked my job. I swear, that's the most aggressive question anyone's ever thrown at me. I just stared at her, dumbfounded, not knowing how to react. The smug look on her face said it all. Kids see right through you, I guess.

I don't even know how many godchildren I have. I've lost count. It's probably close to ten by now or more. In all honesty, I don't even know their names. I admit, I've had my sister proxy for me during their christenings. In my defense, it's because of work; it always falls on a workday, and I didn't have the courage to take a day off for personal reasons. Not that I'm a workaholic. Okay, I am. Okay, in all honesty, I dislike socializing. That's the real reason behind it. I'm glad to get that off my chest. I'm just kidding. Again. But the most recent one was different, and it was something I couldn't refuse.

I forced myself to attend because she's my best friend, and she said only a couple was allowed due to the pandemic, and I didn't have the heart to say no. Do I still have a heart? Anyway, I attended, and it went well. I won't bore you with the details. If you're Catholic, you know how it goes. If not, try YouTube.

Speaking of YouTube and the internet, what's happening in the world today? You can find anything and everything, but most of the content, well, I probably should keep my mouth shut; I don't have anything good to say anyway. Whatever floats your boat, and you know what's best for you. Or not. Sometimes we know what's best for us, but we still make bad decisions because wrong feels right, or the thrill makes you feel alive, or maybe you're just plain foolish.

As I look at her, cuddling her child, it doesn't make me want to have one myself. In fact, it gives me more reasons not to marry and have kids. It's a trap, I'm telling you. It made me realize a lot of things. She's no longer the person I used to know, and I don't mean that in a bad way. She's become a woman I never imagined she could be, doting on her baby with love in her eyes. But the way she bosses her husband around, I imagined that long before it ever happened, and I wasn't wrong. It made me want to laugh, but I chose not to. One, because the people around us would think I'm weird. Well, I am, but they don't know that. I'm a low-key weird girl. It won't show unless I talk, which I'm not. I'm painfully silent in public; you'd think I'm mute.

We're no longer each other's entire world, and somehow, that's okay. Back in my younger days, I couldn't imagine it being fine with me, but it is now. Perhaps that's what getting older means at times – accepting things as they are because there's not much you can do about them. By now, you learn to handle emotions maturely, or at least you try. Less arguing, fewer hurtful words with the people you care deeply about. Sometimes you just let go because it's not working. It's easy to make friends, but it's hard to maintain friendships and other relationships. And that's okay.

If they want you in their life, they'll fight for it. If not, you're still worth it, believe me. There's a significant part of her life that I'm not included in anymore, and it's weird, but I'm not bothered by it. I'm sure there are many things and certain people in my life she has no idea about, and I don't feel the need to tell her. We're still friends, and nothing will ever change that. Motherhood suits her, and I'm happy she found her happiness. But that still won't change the fact that I don't particularly like kids. It might be a mutual feeling, as they don't seem to like me much either. Frankly, dear, I don't give a damn.
© euphemia