Recently I’ve found myself lying in bed and thinking of times in the past. A lot of times in the past were very bad, painful… but there were also good times, great times even. I was a kid,and kids have so much more hope, can bounce back so much better. Even though I lost that ability at only 14, at the tender age of 13, 12, 11, 10, I knew how to love things, and have fun, and have faith in the universe and the sky and the birds and the stars.
I remember doing silly things and feeling so free. That’s what it’s all about, in the end. When I was a kid, I felt more free. I had wonder. I got up and I watched my favourite TV channel, and it was awesome. I got up and listened to my favourite CDs, and it was awesome. I got up and I wrote ‘I heart such-and-such celebrity’ in my diary as I watched hopefully for my favourite band on an awards show. And it was awesome. I got up and sat on the sofa all afternoon reading my favourite magazine. I loved it, all of it. At school, although much of it was torture, my friends were amazing and we loved things together, bands, actors, movies… I had great days that were so fun and I just remember being so happy, everything was so funny, I laughed and laughed, I loved the world around me. Some days I remember so fondly. Some days, just one class, or just one lunchtime, made the day so much brighter even if the rest was hell. I remember, and I’m thankful. But I miss it.
I don’t have friends now and I don’t have any wonder, any faith, any love. I hate this world now, I fear it. I haven’t had an amazing day that was just so funny in years. I know that friends make so much difference, can make the whole world look bigger, better. I miss them. Childhood makes the world brighter, too, and I’ll never get childhood back. But… something tells me that even adults are supposed to feel, and love, and hope.
I miss it.