Can I Know A Little Less?
"How does it feel to grow up, when you KNOW you don't want to grow up anymore? Like the days are running, the seconds are slipping out of your hands, but maybe you just want to walk. To take a look at your surroundings, the trees, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, or maybe the flowers that grew up so beautifully. But maybe, that's not possible. Never was. You wish you could push the pause button, if it were in your hands, to begin with. Who knew that later those moments could be boxed as labels, maybe something like "dreams", "mistakes," or "expectations"? How time slips away like sand from your fingers, and this time, my fists are held tightly together. Yet, how beautifully this fragile life embodies the sand, it's slipping away without my permission. How crazy it is, to live a life you don't want to live, at a pace so fast for your heart to take it anymore."
Can I know a little less?
Can I learn a little slow?
Growing up feels heavy—
how about growing young instead?
Can I run barefoot through the grass,
trip and fall, laughing helplessly,
with nothing on my back to carry on—
just pure sunshine to look forward to?
No deadlines, no dreams to chase,
no responsibilities tugging at my shoulders.
Can I carry a little less?
Maybe just my small backpack,
with crumbs from chips and broken crayons inside,
and learn A to Z all over again?
Or maybe—
maybe I can forget a few things
The names that no longer know mine,
the days that slipped off the calendar without notice,
the weight of knowing things that I didn't know
When I was young and naive.
Can I start afresh?
Like the first page of my very first notebook,
opened wide on the first day of school—
hopeful, excited, eyes full of wonder
Eyes full of sunshine.
Who knew about the dark clouds that would hover later?
-Yuri
