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The Boy Inside My Chest


I find vagueness in the time when it was considered growing up when you gave up upon your dreams. I comb my mind, the catacombs of empty knowledge and recollections to understand it was adult to stop smiling. My eyes are tired as I watch the mouth move of another, oh these topical conversations. When did the element of adulthood become a conformity of repressed ideals and compromised nonsense? Of course all things are what you make of them. I cannot ignore the disturbing realization the paramount of acceptance is to be resolute against joy and expression. The little boy sits inside like all hopes and dreams.

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The simple fact is, no one really "grows up." Time passes, you age, you take on responsibilities either because you want to, you think you must, or to remove the burden of responsibility from others, but you are forever the same you. You merely gain experience and adapt as needed. The goal is always to survive, nothing more, nothing less. If happiness and contentment can be gained along the way, all the better, but if you don't survive you can't get those things later.

Still, it's not as depressing as it sounds, because there's a secret others don't want you to realize - as long as you answer to the powers that be, everything else is irrelevant. Pay your taxes, follow the law, listen to your boss, respect your loved ones. These are things you must do. But everyone else? They only have the power you give them. Deny them a say, cast out their opinions, and you gain a freedom of sorts. They can be unhappy with the child you were, they can even attempt to discourage it, but they cannot truly stop it. And even then, you'll never be alone, because there are too many people in the world. Somewhere, there will be someone who has let their child out too, and together you may play to your hearts' content.

Shane-Frost responds:

Indeed your words are quite correct in the statement and provide a truth I would wish crept among other's hearts. I speak upon the themes of sadness and restriction, the cautionary of being bound, whilst your own provides the alternative back drop and main point of all. Indeed we never do grow up. We either branch ourselves out or bind ourselves down but these by all means are simply mechanisms of social construct. I thank you well for your mentioning and time. You are wished well.

Damn, man...

Credits & Info

Waiting for 3 more votes

May 14, 2015
6:33 PM EDT
File Info
888 x 1417 px
100.3 KB

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