Sometimes I miss being a child. Back when things were mostly easy; when the scary things could be fixed by simply hiding under the covers, and when my biggest worry was that the boy I had a crush on might think I was weird. I miss those easy days, when life didn’t seem to weight so heavily on me.
I’ve been going through a weird time lately. My head is all over the place; I’m questioning things I thought were solid, I’m doubting myself more than ever, I’m struggling with the fact that my life is going nowhere and the crushing inevitability of remaining stuck in a place I want desperately to be free of. I hate my job. I miss my brother. I can’t write. And the bitter cherry atop it all is a deep loneliness that I’ve only just come to recognise.
It’s hard, being in such a dark place with no sign of the light. In my mind I know that the light is there somewhere, and that eventually I will climb back to to it again. But right now, I feel like I’m being dragged deeper and deeper into the murky depths of my own unhappiness, and from where I stand, there appears nothing ahead of me but more of the same.
Life was simpler when I was a kid. It’s funny, I used to be so excited to be an adult. But now that I’m here, the world doesn’t seem as great as it looked through the eyes of a child.