once, innocent
I never fail to be amazed at how pliable we all are, like the bones we break when young. How quick to injure, how easy to be hurt. No matter how old we get, and how much material possessions we finally have, there's still a child in us, crying out for the sense of acceptance we never had. Sometimes that little petulant, insecure and foolish one in us rules our life because we never had closure, we never got to heal and we grow up, wounded, and in pursuit of empty things, our permanent band-aids.
That's how i feel when troubles besiege me - stuck in a limbo between an anxious adult and a confused child. On some level i understand that i must make significant changes to my character and life, yet i struggle between finding out what to do next and being overwhelmed by guilt and uncertainty. I feel i am eight again and caught redhanded taking a bite out of my stepbrother's half-eaten apple. A small, blushing child in a sea of grown-ups with pointing fingers and hidden smiles.
