Warning: Slight rant.
There are so many people that think to themselves, “Oh, I wish I could be younger”. And while they’re thinking those futile thoughts, time is just perpetually ticking on. Without even realizing that they are still young enough to enjoy life, they constantly think about the good times. Or what they think was the good times.
A person can ramble on about how they wish they were five years old again, clinging on to their mother’s skirt and being treated well and all that. But they also have the power to live in the present. Look at your child clinging on to your skirt. Treat your child well. I don’t know, you decide. Do you see how different things can be?
Because I’m not actually “old enough” to realize things. I’m less than half the age of most mother-to-be’s, and yet I can still realize this. When we are twelve, we’ll want to be five. When we’re twenty, we’ll want to live the young and careless life of when we were twelve. When we’re thirty, we’ll want to be as beautiful and lively as we were when we were twenty. And a few seconds before we die, we’ll realize that every single millisecond that we wasted on thinking about our age and life was a waste of time. And eventually, perhaps the moment we die, we will summarize our lives in one positive word. At least we had a chance. At least we got a life.
It doesn’t matter if you’re seventy-two years old. It doesn’t matter if you’re seven. It doesn’t matter if you’re near dying, and it doesn’t matter if you were just born (although unlikely). You have every right to a happy life. It is you who decides things. It is you who decides to be happy. It is you to decide whether you cry about your past or live life in the present, when it could possibly be the best time of our life without knowing it.
I’m a child, okay? I have my good days and bad days, and sometimes, life gets tough. And even I think about the times when I was little, when I was a toddler. When I knew nothing about the world except for cookies, Mom, Dad, and me. When my parents tucked me into bed and treated me as a baby. And I miss it. I miss those times so, so much.
But guess what? In the midst of all this past-time thinking and mourning and shedding past-inflicted tears, everything is worth it. Even that time when I’m missing my past is pretty much happy. And I can guarantee that for sure. I will grow up to be twenty years old and look at my then-past self and think, “Wow, times were great then.” And I will just shed even more tears about how happy I was. How happy I am.
Some people say that humans never forget the bad things. I can cry as much as I want about a bad grade on a test, or missing a concert. And I can feel as bad as I want to and feel like my life has no worth. But in the end, I will only remember one thing- how happy I was and how lucky times were/are, right now, right here.
Because when I die, I will only sum up my life as happy and a pinch of tough.