I am writing this piece from an elegiac frame of mind. To a time which we remember. To a time to which we wonâ€™t be able to return.
A time where the world wasnâ€™t a scary and daunting. A time where we remained seemingly untinctured by what the future holds. A time where time itself seemed perennial, where the world would keep turning regardless of any thought.
A time where there wasnâ€™t a construct for you to fit in. A time where seeking, desperately trying to obtain validation from others was irrelevant. A time where we didnâ€™t need to feed the ego with how we compare to other people, what popularity we attain or how much money we earn.
Although our innocence may be gone, the path that one might go on to try and achieve happiness may not be necessary. Maybe we have an illusion of what happiness is, and that we were most content, most happy, and most perfect right from the beginning.
â–¼ Follow Miro
Art by ebar.photo
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