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I didn't grow up beautiful.

I wanted to grow up to be just like my father.

Growing up, I was not used to good things happening to me.

I was an escapee of childhood. I always wanted to grow up.

Growing up, I was a target. Speaking the right way, standing the right way, holding your wrist the right way. Every day was a test, and there were a thousand ways to fail, a thousand ways to betray yourself, to not live up to someone else's standards of what was accepted, of what was normal.

Hemingway never grew out of adolescence. His scope and depth stayed shallow because he had no idea what women are for.

Growing up, I just wanted to be like everyone else. I didn't value or understand the beauty in being different at the time in my life.

I was wise enough to never grow up while fooling most people into believing I had.

I never really fit in growing up. I got made fun of a lot of the time in high school. People never liked me, and I was always the new kid.

I was not given to looking at life in a rosy light.