(Am I like you?)
I don’t know. Do we avoid thinking of bigger issues because they’re hard to think about? Too difficult?
Are my thoughts similar to yours?
Perhaps it’s just me. Oh, it’s ‘just me’, as they say. Whoever they are.
I ended up thinking about childhood today, prompted by chance. By what I saw while I was out for a walk. That’s it. That random.
Perhaps, yes, it’s just me. I ended up thinking about escapism and the reality of getting older, of experience.
But perhaps my whole train of thought ended up puffing along its own route because of my personal way of thinking.
Maybe my thoughts have, as their base cause, the weight of the ever-present awareness I have now. The awareness of me looking at me and providing a running commentary on me.
xxxxxx
I suppose no-one really knows what other people are thinking and feeling. Are my thoughts similar to yours? Who knows. I guess that’s why we should share our thoughts. Knowing either way somehow helps; is somehow better.
All You Can Do Is Try To Escape
I suppose no-one really knows what other people are thinking and feeling. Are my thoughts similar to yours? Who knows. I guess that’s why we should share our thoughts. Knowing either way somehow helps; is somehow better.
A couple of – I’d guess – just, newly-teenage girls, walking in front of their parents, with two younger siblings leading the way.
The older pair were self-consciously trying to act as they think they should if they’re to compete with the younger ones on the maturity stakes.
It lasts until they get to the playground. The urge to play takes over. Obvious, happy, simple excitement.
Watching this all unfold over just a few minutes, I could only feel sad at the way childhood ends. Inevitably I suppose, sooner or later, cares weigh us all down. Cares, worries, pressures and everything else that getting older and more aware of your lot brings with it.
The winners, by any judgment, are those who postpone the arrival of life’s cares the longest.
If we’re lucky we find ways to play when we’re adults, but that’s called escapism for a reason. Kids get wholly immersed. Adults merely, temporarily, escape.
An adult can never be as free as a still-innocent child playing. We can never completely escape what we come to know.
Arguably … making any kind of judgment about childhood is inherently difficult. They are judgments made from the bias perspectives of the adults making them. Whether these biased perspectives are better thought of as corrupt is interesting to consider.
Adults are all too prone to, knowingly or otherwise – make their judgments on the basis of their own childhoods.
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