I heard this Christmas music masterpiece. It's harking back to childhood after I didn't have to fret. I might set out with arbitrary conquests and largely get pleasure from myself.
Those days are lifeless. I've been mourning them for a number of months. I discovered feedback from those that have been grieving for many years.
I wrote a remark and it goes like this:
As kids we had been blissful as a result of we had nothing else to lose.
It is to our horror to study why all these adults had been so unhappy.
And it’s to our horror when it’s longer "we" than "they".
The days crept by. We had been slowly being undressed for who we had been.
We are cooked, unhappy and lifeless frogs.
Perhaps this is the reason some adults hate kids:
They didn't hate us then, they envied us.
Why is such a small a part of life extra vital than the remainder?
Are the later days meant to wallow prior to now?
Maybe it's as a result of we will't let go. These reminiscences.
And if we neglect to let go, we lose what kids have.