I think you can relate to pressing your ears against the cold squeaky door as a kid, wishing you could be a part of the “past-9pm” club. A downstairs unknown mystical place where adults would laugh the loudest, the most luxurious food would pop out, and TV colours would somehow shine the brightest resolution.
I remember lying on my bed-all scrunched up- snuffling disgusted tears, feeling abandoned. I would promise myself that when I’d grow up, I’d build a device where you can wear something in your ear, and hear everything downstairs: every joke I missed out on, every pizza slice, every R-rated scene.
Damn it, should have patented the bug listening device.
I couldn’t wait to wear make-up like the beautiful older girls, or get my own laptop so I could stay past 9pm (gasp!) and watch whatever (gasp x2)! To own supernatural cards that could buy all that fast-food I was deprived as a kid, with just a swipe! To walk around and jingle my car keys like the adults-who looked so cool doing it.
And then a shift in the time continuum happened. We grew up so fast, and now everything that we oh so desperately cried for, has become our boring routine.
Just another chore. The mundane. How sad.
Everything has become quite the opposite of my kid expectations, actually. I mourn in trying to find a decent sleeping pattern. I cry in trying to turn myself off from the screen or social media. I know no boundaries in “just one more episode,” it’s more of a 15 hour-day binge.
Don’t get me started on being a productive human being. It’s currently 12pm and I’m in my pyjamas, gauging barbecue chicken bites for breakfast (I drank TWO glasses of water though, because you know, healthy lifestyle and all).
Self-control = adulting. And I suck at both.
It’s so healing to sometimes shut the world out: just you and your wild imagination. To leave behind all your crippling worries, and avoid responsibilities (there’s something I’m good at). Just for a little while (I keep telling myself…).
To regain that quirky side of you back. To remind you why it’s worth it. The living, and the routine.
We grew up and stopped doing the simple goofy things. I miss being so oblivious to reality, carefree and loud, without a thought of anyone else.
I remember lying underneath chairs/tables, entertained for hours on the floor, just being in the moment. Just rustling the paper underneath, ripping parts of the material, lining the carving patterns. Being perfectly content hiding in closets to scribble in my journal, in complete darkness. Or to spider-climb trees, crawl on muddy grass, and wrap myself in old scarves (I was a weird kid).
We forget to stop and see the world as a child’s playground again.
As a kid, you’re blissful to the sadness of reality. Everything seems like a dream: chasing boys during recess, spontaneously hanging out with friends for sushi, pizza for breakfast, and trusting everyone.
Who knew life was full of loss, disappointments and absolutely no direction.
Every now and then when you feel breathless, try recreating your child-like safe haven.
What would you do if you knew no-one was watching, judging, pressuring, screaming at you to act one way? What was something that you’d always loved to do, but let drift away as more ‘important’ things got in the way?
We need to do things that reminds us who we are, and who we’ve always been. And perhaps that innocent part of ourselves will inspire us to be most a-like that version. That version that is fearless, stubborn, driven, filled with unconditional love for strangers, and so excited about the little things.
So let’s build pillow forts, jump between couches of lava, and run like Phoebe.
What else are we living for?
Don’t ever lose that innocence.
And I’ll just be here. Continuing to munch on my leftover pizza.
Refusing to grow up.
Don’t ever grow up.
BRB, nap time!