Ramblings

At some point along the way, a small child with their heart filled with glee slowly becomes something much different. It creeps in like a misty fog and settles across the heart and into the eyes and seeps out through the infliction in their speech. Before any time at all has passed, the inocence is forgotten. A blur of mindless expectations race across the childs soul. Constant bombardment from every angle tells them they have to be the best, walk a straight line, rid themselves of their own style and conform to the ideality of society else face the coldness of rejection. They must strip themselves of their own uniquness and blend their hopes into an unrecognizable symbiance of what may have been. They wake to the sudden realization that although they are quite young at heart, the drone of time has robbed them of the chance to live spontaneously. How lucky are those that musn't cope with a life of duty, responsibility and obligation. How lucky are those that truly never know the pressure of conforming. How lucky are those that enjoy it. How miserable for the unique child wanting nothing more than a place to shine. Time is a wicked curse upon which many a dream have perished. Hope is a dangerous tool upon which the soul dies. And conformity is the dagger that steals it all.