give me back my youth

Today, I miss being a kid for about a million reasons. I miss being naïve and worry-free. Frankly, more than anything, I miss the days where the word introspection had little to no meaning.

I miss being frustrated with people about things that I made up in my mind rather than being legitimately frustrated. Does that even make sense? It did in my head. I suppose I mean that often as children, we lose our cool for illegitimate reasons since we lack as sense of intuition and observation in interpersonal relationships, and the older we get we (hopefully) only lose our cool most often for a justified cause. I’ll stop – this still doesn’t seem to work.

If I were 5 again I’d probably throw a tantrum of sorts right about now. I guess the adult thing would be to cry, or have a beer, or just go to sleep and hope these lovely nostalgic dreams would be gone when the alarm clock goes off.

I feel overwhelmed; in I’d say about every area of life. That’s all. And that feeling of frustration feels so much like it did when I was little. It often drew me away from crowds into a small corner of my room in my favorite painted wicker rocking chair. I was safe there. It was quiet.

My white MacBook can be my new wicker rocking char. I’m safe here, and it’s quiet.