Yes, we are ashamed. We are ashamed of the child in us. And we’re trying to hide it. Somewhere there, in a distant corner of our heart. To visit it when we decide. Especially in days like today. Let’s visit him … but he to can not visit us.
Because, we are justifying, time and moment are not always appropriate. Because mood is not always appropriate. Because the place is not always appropriate. And because we are no longer children. We say it almost with pride, but we must to say it only with regret. We are no longer children. We grew up. We became serious. With serious goals and serious thoughts. With a serious life. And we stopped having fun. We stopped to laughing without reason. We stopped running barefoot in the meadows. We ceased to be real. We stopped dancing in the rain so we would not spoil our hairstyles. We stopped eating cookies with milk in bed so we did not mess up our bedclothes. We stopped lying in the grass ,to not bite something our bodies. We stopped doing all those “unserius” things, for which we found “serious” arguments. Arguments that are not suitable for us. And suddenly it turned out that nothing fun is not right for us. It turned out that joy is not right for us. Yes, it turned out we were old men. Old humans disguised as young human. Old humans who are eternally dissatisfied, eternally mumbling, eternally tired. Old humans who lack energy and desire for nothing. Because they have no wish for nothing…
But if only we could remember … If we could remember what it means to look at the world through the eyes of a child. If we could remember what it is to believe in yourself, as a child believes. If only we could remember it… We can, right?
