I want to be young again. I want to laugh carelessly and cry unashamedly. I want to believe again- in innocence and guile.
I want to be bright and loud. I’m uncomfortable that I’m too comfortable with pastels and neutrals and everything mild.
I want to know and look at everything with wide eyes and wonder.
I don’t want to pretend to know the answers to everything. I’d rather ponder.
I want hope and belief.
I want young love and flutters. I want spark and surprise. I want the things I read about and left behind too easily.
Flawed as I am, I hold on to the things I have learnt in my life like my dearest.
It doesn’t make me happy. No, and I feel at my wearest.
What good is wisdom and knowledge if it doesn’t set you free? Where is my freedom to choose?
Why I feel more afraid as I grow older where I now have lesser things to lose?
Maybe that is the reason I will die and be born again so I can be young again than stay alive and simply be.