Theres something to be said about trying to be adult. Ok, plenty, more words and perceptions that millions before you would say. But its always different when its your turn isn't it?
For one thing, its your own special little journey, and the things you encounter seem more vibrant, more intense than anyone else's.
Sometimes there's a little struggle within yourself, when someone says "yeah, been through that already" "oh yeah, I know how that feels" and it simply dismisses your own private salutation.
Its the smallest things that count, the treasures we maul over that define our novel memories, our special perceptions, our own unique sense