I go through various phases of circular thinking. Always about the same subjects. The foremost of these is the idea that
I don’t want to grow up.
I’m afraid.
I fear that I won’t be adequate. or excel. or think that I excel and then fall flat on my face doing what I love. And if I do does it matter? Because at least it is in pursuit of what I love. And on that note is love in and of itself intrinsically good? Whether that love is for another person or another passion, is the mere quality of love good for a person to experience? I think the answer is yes. Love is a tool. Love teaches things that you would never have chosen. Love for something causes you to do terrifying things.
I love words. It seems like a silly thing to love, but someone has to. I love the way that words are woven together. A perfectly placed word in a sentence is almost a spiritual experience for me. A poem executed with grace, expertly written strikes me most strongly.
This to say…is my love of words worth the risk that I will fail at my own usage? Is it worth pursuing a career in? Is it worth channeling a significant amount of passion to?
When I grow up I have to answer those questions. They seem trivial, but they are rooted deeply. Answers to those questions answer a whole host of others.
When I moved away from home last May I left with the words of my Grandma Ruth on my heart, “it seems like just about the time we learn to live, it’s time to move on.” I was content. And then everything I ever knew dropped out beneath my feet. And one day it will happen again. It will be good. But it terrifies me.
I don’t want to grow up.
I don’t want to forget what it is to spend hours doing nothing but stare up into the stars.
I don’t want to lose my childlike spirit.
I don’t want to become serious.
I want to always be a little girl and have fun.
But I can’t.
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