I miss the days of youthful innocence, the moments of carefree bouncing on the bed and of running barefoot in the grass.
I miss the days of naive optimism, the times when I could believe wholeheartedly that what was lost would be found, and when I could believe that people would change for the better.
I miss the days of sunshine laughter, when I could giggle as much as I wanted, and make everyone around me laugh along together.
I miss the days of childish wisdom, when I could easily tell right from wrong and knew nothing about the colour grey.
Growing up meant I couldn’t find these things any longer. Not in me, not in others.
I want to go out and play, away from the bags of burdens that crush me in my sleep.
I want to blindly believe in a grand adventure that awaits me after I overcome my obstacles.
I want to smile genuinely, not force one in the face of overwhelming expectations.
I want to have a discerning mind again, no wishy-washy justifications or lying to myself any longer.
I want my inner child to remain, but she’s slowly fading away with the whispers of the wind and the dissipating of raindrops in the air. I want her to stay, but she’s going off, she’s leaving me behind.
If growing up means losing her, then I never want to grow up.