I miss so badly being a child when every little thing was exciting. Puddles. Balloons. Clouds. Fuck the rest of the world, it was what was right in front of us that mattered.
But, as my grandma used to say, the older you get the more scared you get. As we age we just become more aware of the fucking responsibilities we’ll have to take on, and the pressures put on our shoulders.
Sometimes I swear to god, I consider moving into one of those Eco-Villages where no money is earned or spent but people just work together and grow their own produce. Sometimes that seems far more appealing than the disillusionment of having to accept you will not grow up to be a fairy princess in a beautiful castle where pixies brush you golden hair, but will probably end up in a job you hate in a fucking tailored suit working overtime to pay for a new kitchen.