Mess

Fashions come and go,

And it’s like we’re transforming with them.

The denim jackets, the ballet flats, the eyeliner, the expansion of our souls.

Anything can live between the age of 14 and 34,

It feels timeless and wild, while it feels mature and secure.

I wish I could live between those ages,

When most of my learning happened,

Before my sadness settled.

Yes, definitely I wasn’t the happiest,

But clearly I wasn’t the saddest either.

I’ve done so much, and still, I had so much to do still.

Dreams were not out of my reach,

And paths could still be changed,

Anonymity was a thing, while internet was blooming,

Accessing everyone at one push of a button was a legend,

But people were still able to connect.

This whole thing was a mess, a beautiful mess,

Versus what we have now.

I miss the simple times of troubling to connect,

The simple times of troubling to grow,

The simple times of no knowing and going for it.

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