When I grow up, I don’t think I’ll be me. Maybe I’ll be like the nice man next door who always cleans his pool. He’s not really my next door neighbour because I don’t really live here. But when I grow up, I don’t think I’ll be me. I don’t think I’ll be a fireman or a policeman. either. And I won’t join the army. Only poor people do that. Then rich people send them off to get shot or blown up. But I could learn to fly a helicopter if I joined the army although I am not sure what helicopter pilots do after they leave the army and no one is trying to blow them out of the sky or the sky isn’t trying to blow them where they don’t want to fly.
When I grow up, I don’t think I’ll be me. The sky will have two dimensions, not three. That will make it easier for me not to be me.
When I grow up, I don’t think I’ll be me. I’ll be someone who always does what he’s told and someone who makes everyone happy, even the unhappy. That’s how good I will be at not being me.
I’ll pull out the weeds and I’ll wave at my neighbours and smile and say ‘hello’ even though I don’t know their name. When I grow up, I won’t take risks and I won’t complain except maybe when the home team loses. Do we complain or do we lament about that? I don’t know because it’s just not me but then, I haven’t grown up.
When I grow up I’ll keep all my hair. My sanity, too. When I grow up everything will be fine because when I grow I won’t be me.
When I grow up I won’t dwell on the past because when I grow up, I won’t have one. I’ll remember everyone’s birthdays and buy lots of balloons, all filled with helium and we’ll let them go; fly up and away to places I’ll never go because when I grow up, I won’t be me. When I grow up, I’ll know that the grass is always browner on the far side of the hill.
When I grow up, normal won’t seem so abnormal because when I grow up I won’t be me. When I grow up, I’ll be what’s expected, whatever that might be. I’m not sure what that is. I just know it’s not me.
Three Years on Mars 