I want my toys back

[Salems lot]

It's kind of ironic. As children we wanted so much to just grow up, not knowing what awaited us. We just had such high aspirations for the future. As an adult, I would give almost anything to be a kid again. I now fear the future, while the past is a wound that simply cannot heal. Becoming infected and discontent, I toss and turn to dream of toys and loved ones no more. And awake to work and the ever present fear of the future that, as much as I wish it wasn't, is inevitable. The crushing burden of everything inside the flow of time, every beginning has an ending