When we were little, all we had was time. Worries? What worries? If we had them, they seem trivial now. Even most of those we had as teenagers pale in comparison to the adult worries we shoulder now. The consequences are bigger, I suppose.
We invested more of ourselves into everything that we did. Heart, soul, Legos, all of it. All risk seemed minimal. If other kids didn’t like us, it hurt, but we got over it. If we were bullied, sure it stings still, but we became stronger.
Ok, so I’ve gone sappy. And I know some people had it pretty rough as kids. Rougher, sometimes, than I can imagine. Not to say my childhood was idyllic, but fairly close. What made it pretty close? Well, I had a great family, food on my plate, and toys in my room. And awesome friends. Awesome friends. What happened to those friends?
Ok, I know what happened to them literally. What I mean is what happened to them figuratively?
Why don’t we have friends like the friends we had when we were kids?
Once upon a time, we did everything together. We made up games, stories, got in trouble, made up pretend bands…the list goes on and on. Our imaginations were endless. When we got older, the games changed, the trouble got bigger, and the stories got a bit more racy. But the friendships remained. We trusted each other. Relied on each other. And now, as adults, the people we allow to get close to us are few. Rare. Is it because we have more to lose from getting burnt? More to hide? More to protect? I don’t know.
All I know is that I LOVED that time when friendship ruled. I got up, went to school, stayed after school for activities, and loved it all because of my friends. Yes, there were bad times. There were times when I HATED people, HATED school, and wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment. But it passed. I lived. And then, I guess, I got scared. I went to university and shut up. I didn’t trust myself to be enough to attract friends, boyfriends, anyone really. Is that what happens to everyone?
I think the creativity from the childhood imagination still lingers. We have a spark of it still left in us. That makes us want to hold on to people. To believe in things. Because when we were small, it was belief that made every game, every story fun. Maybe now that we’re older, and we see ‘clearly’, we’ve really become blinkered. We see the road we should follow. Instead of endless opportunity, we begin to see only a few. Or categorise them into ‘easy’ and ‘hard’. Into ‘dreams’ and ‘realities’.
In The Breakfast Club, Alison (The ‘thief’) tells everyone that when you get older, your heart dies. Your heart doesn’t die. But the part of it, the part that let you believe in things without judgement or hesitation, I think that begins to disappear. Maybe to some people, it is like a dying, a fading away. But sometimes, I swear I see that spark in there. When I’m not thinking so much. When I’m not paying attention. I’m glad. I’m GLAD its still there…somewhere.