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Off on a Tangent
Where are those words...?
What's it like to grow up? When do you know you've hit that moment? Is it when you've finally learned not to be afraid of the dark, or when childish fighting between friends and acquaintances no longer affects your outlook on life? Where does the critical breech from childhood to adulthood come from? I feel in some ways I'll always remain a child; able to see through eyes unclouded by sorrow and pessimism, and see the world as a bright and beautiful place where wonder and whimsy reign supreme. But that is very rare nowadays. Responsibilities drag down that sense of pure electric current of the world. Problems, stress, bills, relationship issues, promotions or lack thereof, and a zillion other things that rip our inner child from our souls until we are brainless zombies marching from one job to the other.
I miss those nights of thinking in bed and wondering where Life may take me. I'm only 23 but it already feels like my path has been drawn. Maybe I don't want a path, a road. Maybe I want a river, some stepping stones, a mountain, a dessert, and a forest so thick with trees it's hard to see ten feet in front of you. Where's the hill drop off, is there a rotten log ahead, a fox den, a grizzly bear, a swamp filled with hungry alligators?
I haven't been able to write anything in a long time. Creativity leaves with childhood. Well, maybe mine does. I don't want to be a drone, a zombie, a corporate tool. I want to twirl and spin and jump and giggle like a dorky little girl. I want to chase the bubbles, run until I can't breathe, and laugh until I cry. Where is all of that? Where are those words that used to spill from my mind like an open cloud, dripping and dropping and splashing to make puddles and ponds? They've been buried alive and they've long ago run out of air. Smothered and put out, just like my sense of childhood.