maturity

   I used to have all these ideas about people and what they were like. When I'm out somewhere by myself, I used to stand for hours at the railing and look at all these people passing by living their lives. I still do, actually. It used to intrigue me that we were all living in the same place and yet we didn't know each other at all. Do you believe in things like fate? Like how one person is destined to meet another, and not necessarily fall in love, but to be of some significance in each other's lives? Yeah, something like that. 

   I used to set a whole lot of store by things like that. But nowadays, as I lean against those mallspace railings and contemplate those people living their people lives, I feel like I've lost the sense of wonderment I used to have. Everybody has something they want themselves to be, I'm sure. We all want to be better people, and this is a healthy thing to want, I'm pretty sure. Are you supposed to slowly lose facets of yourself as you grow older? Are you pre-ordained to lose the part of yourself that did things just because you wanted to? The part that told you good things, not the bad things you didn't want to hear but knew were true anyway? 

   The sad thing is, we all want to grow up. Isn't it weird that people want to lose themselves sooner, rather than later? I know there are perks to it. There's the maturity thing, and the rationality thing, and the independent thing- all good things, and all things we need to figure other things out. And there's the sexual thing too, right? Sex is a big thing. But I'm talking about the good part of it, the part where you just know is good. The heart part, the mind part. The other person part. I can't stand the world sometimes because quite everyone has forgotten about the heart part. 

   I used to write on all these bits of paper about these people that I saw, and the things they made me think. I still do, actually. I have all these bits of paper with bits of dreams on them, like a storybook in my head only I can understand. They are everywhere. I leave them in books, on shelves, in bottles, in boxes, in wallets and on tables. Maybe it felt good, putting all those things down on paper. Maybe it was supposed to be like that. Maybe it made sense. I love coming across one and reading it through and remembering what I thought on that particular day in time. Like a photograph, you know? Dreams will always be a big part of how I live my life. 

   I used to have so many things to say. I think I used to believe in so many things. I think it's slowly changing, even though I'm trying my darnedest to hold on to the things that matter. 

I really don't think anything is working.