Turning Every Good Thing To Rust

It is only in the most recent chapter of life that I have been faced with mourning my childhood. I've always hated memories, bad ones and good ones. It's easy to understand a dislike of bad memories.......they're bad, no one wants those again. But good ones I find equally miserable. They're gone with no promise of return.
It really is like an abusive relationship with the past. I think that's why we aren't supposed to dwell there...kind of a preplanned restraining order. But I have always possessed a socially awkward amount of nostalgia.
I swear if I walked into a room deaf, blind, and unable to smell I would probably still develop a relationship with a wall, counter top, and lighting fixture. I could have entire conversations with the window sills about how the afternoon sun reflected on the paint compared to morning's subtle gleam.
So really it's no wonder that as I turn this corner in my life, as I attempt to stumble through a foreign corridor, the baggage of every place I've every lived, every movie of my childhood, and every bright idea I've ever had can't all possibly squeeze through customs. Much of me hates growing up. I predicted this, of course. I hate being right. At eight years old, people would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up? I used to say "I don't want to grow-up." To which people accredited Peter Pan. We are not the same. Peter just wanted to dance with pirates and wear tights, but I could see that bill paying, decision making, and sex were all largely disappointing... which is probably thanks to my curse with being annoyingly observant. Gosh I hate knowing things.
So when I watched the trailer for "Where the Wild Things Are," I realized how much I still wanted to go where the wild things are. We all want to be Max, that's no mystery. I never acted out in school or at home like Max, but we are really no different. Some of us act in. It's far less punishable and just as destructive. We grow up...bodies change, hormones rage, temptations rise, ramifications intensify, parents get sick, people die, the world gets smaller, the future gets closer, and all the while you can't stop time. The escapes of adulthood are gross and scary compared to those of childhood.


I love being referred to as a sheep and a child. I sincerely hope that in heaven I am 3'6" with freckles and a blanket.