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On growing up

Remember your younger self? The one who was curious about the world, the people in it, the places visited, the tools used. The world was a place of endless possibility. Questions were fired off without hesitation, nothing was obvious or dismissed as ‘just the way it is’. Why was asked time and time and again.

Even our subjective reality was different. The sun burned brighter, the grass more vibrant, scents more powerful. We’d vividly imagine the places we’d go, the person we’d become, the experiences we’d have. We saw no distinction between imagination and reality.

Then something happened.

Over time the imagination faded, reality began to inject its poison. Life didn’t go as planned. Days began merging into an endless cycle of work, bills and grocery shopping.

This became the default, the weekly trudge that sucked up all traces of childlike imagination. Worse, we simply accepted it.

Well, make it unhappen.

Be a child again, play. Fly a kite, play a stupid game of tag with your partner, do a puzzle, draw. Do those small things that bring simple joy, the things society suggests we phase out as we ‘grow up’. 

The child is still there, and they want to play.