When you were fourteen, you wanted to be sixteen: driving a car, getting a job, and–since you’d thus far been pretty sheltered–maybe finding another human who wanted to put their face on your face??
When you were sixteen you wanted to be eighteen: going off to university; doors to a new, smart, sexy, powerful you opening up around every corner; opportunity in the form of internships, study abroad, awards, applause, fingers tracing someone else’s naked skin danced just out of reach, but visible–seemingly.
When you stumbled out of that graduation ceremony, you glanced back. Just a quick look, checking to make sure that your past as you remembered it was still intact considering the person you are now, emerging from hallowed halls of learning with a diploma stating experience and capability in a field you never dreamed you would pursue. But as you look, quickly, just checking–you can’t turn back towards the future where that crushing press of responsibility and ignorance and wrinkles and loss emanates.
When you were twenty-five you wanted to be eighteen: fresh skin and wide eyes, seeing each new task and chore as a challenge. Still cultivating hope. Looking through a telescope of potential at an imminent career in which you were going to thrive.
When you tried to look back, at eighteen from twenty-five, to see if where you are now is where you had wanted to be, just checking, the telescope broke and shattered glass around your feet.
via Daily Prompt: Youth