Then you start to regret the past. Then you start blaming yourself for who you are. Kinda a little to wussy for a guy. But this is regression, and I start again to regress into the boy that I’ve always used to be. It feels like cowering under the sheets. It feels like throwing rocks and sticks and stones into anything that scares you.
I don’t remember the day I grew out from being a boy. I guess nobody remembers it at all but probably everybody else after that day, they came to grow forward and never went back and dwell in their old feelings. Ancient feelings.
I wonder if I played more ball and went outside more when I was young, it would change something. I wonder if I wanted toy guns instead of blocks and books would matter today. I wonder if I paid attention more during gym class than my own world I lived in, if I wanted to exchange fists with other kids, if I threw away all the pieces of paper I’ve wasted. I wonder if everything my life revolved around when I was young turned out to be different, I’d be a lot happier today.
I am uncontented, I am restless, I am unhappy, I fidget my elbows and arms and struggle to find a way to be comfortable inside my skin. Why the fuck did I grow up to be the kind of person I am. Why the fuck do I even feel this way.