Feverishly Undefeated
Nostalgically
Natural highlights
Before tampering
cramps your style
Feverishly
undefeated
Energetics
Blissfully unaware
à la status of being
Youthful
Adults follow paths. Children explore. ~The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
Lately, I’m lingering too much in the longing to be that age again of looking forward to a few months of summer break freedom. An era where your cares are wrapped in sweet sixteens and high school graduations. That epic focal space of seeking who you are, testing what your pleasures could be, tasting grown-up mischief, and essentially existing on the totally spoiled strength that comes from the incalculable supply of newness everywhere you turn. People preferred you taking on all the world had to offer. You weren’t typecast in any pigeonholed professionalism. You could be and try most anything that didn’t wind you behind bars or in an impregnated pickle. The once in a duration when pretending you were above and beyond the law was remotely conceivable. A searchful success stage of hunting oneself by happenstance to romance. The rush of crushes on dormant guises of ourselves.
I simply miss that period of living when it seemed like eternity was a real thing. Every motion of time felt dilated. Impolitely telling lies since the consequences weren’t quite inflicting the burns of life. I could make all sorts of decisions. I thought that I was able to redo any actions endlessly. I didn’t have to pick a single lane and stick by it for fear of others picking me apart for going off script. My ambitions were thoroughly applauded. I was allowed to be involved in as many trappings to creations as I might get into. Days where I’d not yet become 100% responsible for remembering, cleaning, or paying for all that it took to keep myself alive. I carted confidence, given that my birthday wasn’t against me. I received regular doses of encouragement, especially for my greedy curiosity. Where possibility was my unwavering BFF. When all I wished for was daring each of my wild indulgences.
Sharing the same desires ~Only the Young by Journey
I want to be ambushed by ease. Entangled in the epoch of thinking you’re so knowledgeable making out with how little you actually (have to) understand about the big picture. That syrupy sensory acreage that arrives after smooching for hours in the hammock or across the gearshift of cars. Where bases aren’t solely about baseball. You’re a slave to secret handshakes and first fondling of another’s naughty body bits. When sneaking kisses in the country cat-tail fields with my boyfriend or raising the blood pressure from other boys because of the bikini I wore and had snuck from my mom’s closet was merely par for the course of heart circulation. That interval when raiding refrigerators didn’t pack on pounds. How getting a golden suntan was always part of the plan. Those classic years that you assumed a maturity on account of your marriage to epic music.
Teenage wistfulness is both a smidgin my fault and just the ambiance of what’s waltzing around me daily these recent couple of weeks. My darling sophomore nephew and his stellar senior girlfriend invincibly loving and laughing all over me. But, childhood should never be discontinued. Brain searing has taught me to be habitually replenished by the volcano of strapping adolescence. Often, we need to skinny-dip in our OG pools. Why not be caught finding former versions of myself that reinvigorate me? I believe that humans notoriously separate from their juvenile inquiries as the rude realizations of buckling down concentration gobbles one’s unprincipled forthrighteousness. Forget all the trendy influencer, diety intermittent fasting, or any detox to inbox programmy insert whatevs now and then fads, I’d rather begin instituting intentionally seasonal throwbacks. Episodic eruptions of owned exasperation may instead be used as fervid fuel.
Let the innocence of your virgin individualism regain.
