When you were young.


Life is full of ghosts. Dancing shadows that we seldom confuse for skeletons. The history is the past and what continues in our present are just distant memories of who we used to be. We watch what fraction of ourselves we have left over from the wars of our memories. The battle cries of good vs. evil. We each find ourselves picking sides eventually. What good is the good without a little evil, we say? What good is life, if we haven’t truly lived it?

I watch the memories of my nostalgic mind slowly turn to dust trying to remember everything. Every last detail. From the colors of my childhood to the weight of an embrace. Everything. Every last emotional moment to every everlasting memory. Going through the photo album of my memory and wanting to hold on to the last of a dying era. We are growing older at warped speed but have a hard time with the growing up. I slowly watch my body decompose and shut down. When all I want is just another moment to shine and dance amongst the thousand of stars. When you are young, you’re cavalier about how you view the world. You believe that every night is going to last forever, that someone is going to save you from all your pain and suffering. Its funny how we used to think when we were young. That people, places, and things, would last forever, knowing very well it was moments before everything fell apart. We love that illusion that moments have a way of repeating themselves. That memories have a way of coming back to us. Instead we are left with high hopes and even higher expectations.


When you grow up your heart dies. You stop believing in all things you once did when you were younger. You stop hiding in the shadows and start living in the present times and present tense. You watch every last one of your friends grow up and you’re still trying to figure out how. Watching your childhood home become nothing but a rusted memory. I don’t feel any older than I did yesterday, even though my body does. Sometimes on the days when I don’t feel like myself I want to hold on to everything. Hold on to the photographs and the people housed inside of them. Its the ghosts that keep me occupied with the memories of what used to be. Eventually we all have to grow up sometime, even if the memories haunt us.

Even if it hurts us. Even if we are not ready, we have to grow up. When you were young you had this anticipation of growing up, and now it’s here. That time is now.



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