The Child in Me

I’ve suddenly realized that I’m too young for all this.

Sitting, studying, using big words, engaging in philosophical discussions, asking unanswerable questions. When did I become so old?

Often, when I accidentally stumble upon my younger self (whether in photographs or old diaries, it varies), a strange feeling comes over me. I cannot recall when I stopped being myself, or when I became myself, or if I ever had a delineated self.

I remember playing with dolls, and suddenly not knowing what to talk about with other girls, because suddenly, I wanted to read.

Today, I run home and feed on neuroscience documentaries, question life, but all in all, wish to take off my shoes and sit in the middle of the road, like any child would, before the biting of the wisdom fruit.

Indeed. I miss not knowing right from wrong. The purest form of my existence, perhaps. Everything was new. Novelty was the currency of my daily experiences.

Now, I sit in front of crumbled notes, or (desperate!) attempts at absorbing as much information as I can, all in pursuit of a Politics degree. Heck, who envisioned me graduating with a paper that smelt like Politics?

For I’d like to sit with the artist that sketched my future. There are so many questions about my past, which seems increasingly far-fetched, when compared to my present self.

I am various people. I have always been various people. And I’m not sure if growing up is helping.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to reach 30 and look at my 20-year-old self with satisfaction.

In any case, so long as I don’t look back in awe, wondering, what happened to that child?


stream of thought

not all mondays suck, i thought, but oh, how wrong i found myself to be.

the alarm was late, in fact, it silenced itself after 10 minutes, it claimed, but i never heard anything! all i heard was how much i dreaded waking up, not that my dream was nice but waking up did not, in any possible parallel universe, seem like a good or minimally sound idea, considering it is also the first official day of holidays.

then i remembered i am human and have so many things to do in 24 hours including breathing which, albeit voluntary, needs to be done how weird is it to think that we need to inhale unseen particles so as to keep ourselves from melting away from existence. odd.

so i exited the house after everything i have been taught to do (shower, brush teeth). i did question these teachings but then again such should not be publicized as getting out of the house without showering or brushing one’s teeth is so politically incorrect. also i had a thought this morning while squeezing the toothpaste into the tool we humans brush our teeth with: animals don’t brush their teeth.

so then i finally went out of the house and checked my account and oh the despair that fell upon me on reading that the atm was, in fact, broken, and so i couldn’t print my receipt but ok fine.

i needed to take some pictures because i’m all grown up and needed to care care of some bureaucratic things when i realize that the store is closed down and moving online and i thought, really now? i really need you to be tangible just today and you tell me you’re moving online? gosh.

defeated, i went back to the flat only to find the polluted oxygen of the corridor raping my sanctuary because yes: the door was wide open and there was a lady with funny sneakers who gave me a funny look, she was the inspector.

then i just curled myself up on my bed feeling violated because how could she just enter my holy temple like that and give me a look what has the world come to.

i’ve interacted with a total of three people thus far and i’m scared i’ll see people i know because then i’ll have to greet them and i feel misanthropy rising up in me what shall i do.