growing up
Watching old friends grow is an intriguing model.
Seeing them shed adolescent insecurities and innocence that held who they were secure.
We used to say how the value of innocence was highly overrated
This is still something I believe,
however, watching kindred spirits become less like spiritual kin, seeing them turn on the ideals that once we lived for, breathed and slept and rejoiced in together...
were I the same self I was when they were their same selves and we were in this haze of wonderous innocence, it would beg my heart to break.
but as it is, I am not. I'm hardened to their uncaring, not because I don't, but rather, because I too have changed. shed my skin. become someone else.
I am relieved to be able to say that. and saddened in only a nostalgic way.
and as I watch them turn into people I can't relate to, and even don't quite like, I only resign myself to let them be themselves, and try not to rise to the level of outrage their new selves and new ideals sometimes evoke in me.
Seeing them shed adolescent insecurities and innocence that held who they were secure.
We used to say how the value of innocence was highly overrated
This is still something I believe,
however, watching kindred spirits become less like spiritual kin, seeing them turn on the ideals that once we lived for, breathed and slept and rejoiced in together...
were I the same self I was when they were their same selves and we were in this haze of wonderous innocence, it would beg my heart to break.
but as it is, I am not. I'm hardened to their uncaring, not because I don't, but rather, because I too have changed. shed my skin. become someone else.
I am relieved to be able to say that. and saddened in only a nostalgic way.
and as I watch them turn into people I can't relate to, and even don't quite like, I only resign myself to let them be themselves, and try not to rise to the level of outrage their new selves and new ideals sometimes evoke in me.