Oh we were so young and our hair was so fair, we fought with wooden sticks on the frozen river in the starlit evening, our deity was Tempo. His temple was under a bridge, with one of its mighty pillars adorned with a graffiti of a Viking dude with a huge beard and a spear.
I came home later in the evening, and realized I hadn’t done my homework. I was terrified, and feared the teacher’s wrath. I was punished, but life went on, and we fought with Tempo in our hearts, the blood of battle throbbing in our veins.
Then I blinked, and my friends became druggies or pregnant, and I got sent to group homes. Super Mario games were played on my lonesome as I mourned endless game night sleepovers, and Tempo had left me. The blood of battle was no longer in my veins, but syringes were, as I was tested for the HIV virus. In between 10 and 15, I saw nasty and depressing stuff that I didn’t see before, or didn’t interpret as I do now now, and have seemingly been interpreting as for 2000 years.
Somewhere in between then. If not then, then a bit later, when I realized that having to get a job was the only way to survive, unless I became homeless, or a cannibal.
I realized that my childhood days were over when not doing my homework wasn’t the only thing I had to worry about anymore.
I should have become a cannibal. Regrets. Another adult thing. Lame.
…sorry. XD