I want to live like a child—eyes closed, head leaned back, tongue reaching for the raindrops as they fall from the sky. I want to be the way I once was, silly and unafraid. I want to stare the unknown in the face and laugh like the way I would have when I was younger, never looking beyond the asphalt in front of me as I roller-bladed full speed, as I danced in the puddles, as I lay and made shapes of the clouds.
Sometimes the world is in such a rush to grow up, to make sense of the ‘whys’ and ‘why nots,’ to understand who and what everyone’s intentions are, and whether a certain something or someone makes sense to pursue. We’re calculating—every step, every word—instead of jumping. We’re measuring the risk before we even step foot on the ground.
And I don’t want to live like that anymore, always guarded, always hesitant, always evaluating the outcome before even making an attempt. Yes, there are things of this world that require attention and care, moments where it makes sense to be patient, to take to decide.
But the vast majority of this life is not meant to be experienced with fragile steps, with tender hands, with choices made long after the passion’s gone.
There are many things that are meant to be felt in the moment—open arms, bright eyes, eager souls. There are people who are supposed to be loved with full tenacity—not evaluated, not calculated, not understood. There are memories that need to be made with caution thrown to the wind—not in foolishness, but in joy and abandon. Celebrating, rather than over-thinking. Experiencing instead of withholding.
So I want to live like a child.
Laughter as my melody, sunshine and dirt in my hair. Bare feet on the pavement, grit under my fingernails as I touch and taste and feel everything this world has to offer me.
I want to close my eyes and jump into the ice cold lake. I want to swing ropes tied to trees and build castles in the sand. I want to run until my legs give out, make wishes on dandelions, carve my initials into the bark on the old pine, leaving my legacy for tomorrow.
I want to play with caterpillars and butterflies, with blades of grass, with strangers. I want to kiss friends and tell stories, collect sea shells from the ocean and catch frogs with my bare hands.
I don’t want to be still, watching the world pass me by like cars on a highway with my nose pressed to the window glass. I don’t want to settle for the maturity of adulthood, for the dryness of a life without joy. I don’t want to wake up to exist, rather than enjoy.
I don’t ever want to forget how much there is to live for, how beautiful just being here can be.
I want to make mistakes and scrape my knees, ride the bike without a helmet, feel the wind in my hair. I don’t always want to wait for the answers to come; I want to ask the ‘why’ until I know. And then step forward, even when the outcome is uncertain.
I want to challenge the people around me, make them believe. I want to climb mountains and build forts, put a different color polish on every fingernail, wear striped sock with polka dot pants and pigtails in my hair.
I want to love people because this innocence is all I know.
I want to be without worrying who I am, where I’m going, what changes might come. I want to be the girl I feel I’m becoming without regard to where she fits or whether she’ll be accepted as she is.
I want to dance with my arms above my head, with laughter bubbling from my lips, with my dress flowing around me and my pink underwear exposed because I don’t give a damn. Because life is too short to stress over what other people think or if I’m ‘accepted’ or whether or not I’m making a fool of myself.
I’d rather be a fool than stiff.
I’d rather be wild than guarded.
I’d rather feel all the parts of this world than grow up.