Sometimes being an adult feels like an elongated version of deciding what to play when you’re a kid
Run around until dusk and your only concerns are when lunch or dinner is.
I liked that because it was a lot simpler
You didn’t have a lot of options so you just sort of experienced whatever was in your path
I remember waking up without a plan and just being excited to get out and “explore” even though I could easily run around our neighborhood with my eyes shut,
But I always found something new. A family of rabbits, a conversation with a mockingbird, stashing a makeshift time capsule in the safe crook of a tree.
I really don’t like how far away that feels, sometimes. I get caught up in this day-to-day
Worrying over every word I say
Am I creative or am I just fueled by consumption of media
Am I smart or do I just parrot words that I hear
What part of me is me and what parts are a conglomerate of everything else?
And do I live for myself?
Hard to tell.
I have yet to sort it all out.
Woolgathering 