Maybe it's because I was in a new town. It could have just been my idealised and over romanticised view of the place. But everyone was so young, so carefree. The sun was shining and the teenagers were all hanging out in their Ramones t-shirts, with their ice creams, and it hit me like a rock: I am not that young anymore.
I walked through the park, and these kids had stolen their friend's shoe. He refused to get off the slide until he got it back. They were laughing and playing and teasing, so carefree and alive. That used to be us!
You think you're youthful and you think you're still a kid but then one day you realize you're just a passer by, an adult, and you feel a jolt of jealousy as you see people living their younger days.
When was the day it ended? When did I get too old to hide my friends shoes? When did we stop hanging out in the park as the sun came down in our favourite band's t-shirts?
This is not a passing thought. I want to know the exact day. When did it end? When did we get older? When did we mature? And what were the benefits of doing so?
Occasionally you do something stupid or crazy, and your friends give you that look, they say "we're not kids anymore" and it wrecks you, because you feel stupid. You acted in a way that doesn't exist anymore. The day came when flicking a piece of screwed up paper at someone's head just became darn stupidity.
When you're young, you're IN IT! Remember the looks the girls gave you? Remember the things you set fire to and the speed at which you screamed down the road to safety?
It ended, and I want to know exactly when. Does anyone know?
I looked deep into the mirror the other day and saw a 43 year old with spots of grey about her hair. She had slight wrinkles around her eyes but still had a glimmer in her eye. Was this really me? I had to put my reading glasses on to check my ID and I knew...the mirror didn't lieReplyDelete