Today, my mom handed me pictures of a younger me. When I looked at the photos, I saw someone whose eyes are round with innocence, nose tender and petite, lips in need of nourishment, face not shaped by puberty, cheeks squeezable, and skin airbrushed to a smooth soft texture. That child was nice and happy, always eager to meet someone new and make a new friends. He was outspoken at most times but with the ability to be quite when needed. He was loved. He was the type of person that everyone wanted to compare themselves to because his stance, his demeanor, was something to admire and want. His smile was genuine and inviting. He wasn't insecure around others, and felt no need to make comparisons but be happy with what he had because that was all he had. His mind was pure and only saw things for what they were, everything was simple and everything was easy to understand. He knew what he was and was proud because he hadn't felt harsh judgment and cruel words due to others insecurities. His favorite color was blue which showed on his clothes. He had a plan for the future, to be rich, to love another, and have a family of his own.
That's what appeared on that photo, which can only say so much. That photo showed history not reality.
Now, that kid grew up. He grew up into someone who barely cared for others (except friends :) ) opinions, frustrations, and expressions. Could care less to make an introduction of himself because would not be interested in the people he meet. His smile grew crooked and a way to tell people "keep it moving". He became angry and sad. His heart held pain and had no room for love. He likes the rain, the sound of only the droplets falling, splashing in a steady rhythm and cool wind caressing his face as he enjoyed the peaceful, lonely surrounding. He laughed at others pain and enjoyed the bitter taste of it. Blue changed into black. He told the world fuck you for the lies that was fed at a young age; and wished that it would have told him the truth from the beginning. His plan to become rich is motivated by greed than, a once, ambition. To love another became to love 'one'-other, to give himself to that one person, every smile and every tear would be shared with that one person and everyone one else would be kept out. His perfect family became a dream of itself, he couldn't share the joy of having children with his significant other because the woman of his dream is changing to the man of his life. The animalistic urge for a woman's gentle touch, sweet scent, high intoxicating voice was a mirage and actually was the desire for a man's rough hands to roam his body, a man's musk to drown him in perfume, and deep voice to make him feel safe. His future days would be spent not raising 3 (my fav. #) children but resting his head on his lovers muscular chest, lips enjoying the salty taste of the other persons skin, and their legs entwined holding on to each other.
Would the younger me like who he became? Would he have expected the changes that came with him in the future? Would he wished time stayed still and he lived forever in the happy world he knows?
My head tells me that I should be happy with who I am now and not try to devolve myself to a gullible minor; but my heart begs to be that little kid again, and ignorant to the brutal world he really lives in.
(I need to write more happy stuff because all of this is really getting to me)