What happened in the elven years between blissfulness and chaotic depression? How did the world start to feel as if were slipping through clenched fists and the social norm became the depravity of existence? Independence replaced imagination and life began to attack an unarmed child who lacked the basic training of worldly politics. To once again run without worrying if it is the right way, or care not of the thoughts and feelings of others. That would be life. Instead, it feels as if each day takes a bit of the child who once ruled the kingdom of my mind and replaces it with a bitter king, too old and tired to rekindle the past. Breathing without feeling like an anvil is on my chest. The adventurer in me wants to say the answer is just around the bend, to hold it out for a few more moments and there, the promise land will be nestled in the future.
Just around the bend. To be young again. To close my eyes and just be.
I was walking back from the meadow at the bottom of the grassy lane. Back to the pink and white house on township line. Leaves in my hair and a slingshot in hand. It is about supper time. I open the back door and I'm home.