My last post was a bit, ‘9 Steps To A New, Golden You!’ I won’t take it back, but now I return to seek some comfort.
I continue to wonder whether life is supposed to be this… flat. A constant state of longing, not living. I don’t mean longing for a future – a hope – but for a past which really can’t be relived. They say it’s human nature to want what we can’t have; I want what I somehow feel I’ve lost.
What is that, though? I don’t know. I don’t even think it’s anything. If it is, it’s a feeling that I miss.
I miss before, that misty dream-world we all know, but none can visit. I miss youth, not because of youth itself, but the heart I had in youth. I miss raking leaves in a crisp, bronzed autumn garden. I miss laughing with friends, before the dark shadow of ‘real life’ began to haunt the door-step, diluting smiles with a vaguely morbid sourness. I miss curling in the armchair of a Saturday morning.
I miss not worrying that I’m losing time… and right now I’m spending too much of mine doing just that. But then, what’s new in the world? Isn’t this the very sadness artists have been painting, playing and penning for centuries? The sadness of mortality?