Bare-footed children

The period of my life that I think I miss the most, was the time when I was 8.

I remember the sound, the feeling and most of all the laughing.

We were the original barefooted children who had the soles of our feet tough just like our dog. We stayed in the bush a lot with family and friends who may as well been our own flesh and blood. I don't know their names now, but I do remember their voices. I loved waking up with the sun and never feeling tired, hearing the kookaburras as we got our breakfast and not having a care in the world. We used to swim in and of the creeks and rivers in whatever clothing we had. I miss riding horses and having candles instead of electricity. Just all those little things that started to slip away as I got older.

Most of all I guess I miss the freedom of never having to worry about being conscious of myself. Conscious of whether or not these pants were appropriate or if I should be smiling more, or maybe I'm smiling too much. Maybe I should be crying at a time like this, or perhaps that's too melodramatic and they won't believe me that this is real. Because it is. Because it exist, but it's entirely and tirelessly fake. Everyone seems to be drawing invisible lines, around themselves, entrancing some, closing others off and writing messages across starless skies. That's another thing that is easy to forget. How beautiful, and full and bright the sky is when the artificial lights are taken away, and the smog and pollution don't block your view. Believe me, this sky isn't true.

And I miss that honesty of complete innocence. Lies were real, but never so petty. Surprisingly and ironic as it may seem, that's where it all went backwards. The mischievousness of being so young. And I loved it.

Something that always catches me off guard these days, is something I never really took notice of before. The sound of papa's voice. It was rough and as soft as honey. It seems so familiar yet distant and it's that sound that I truly miss. I don't remember ever liking his perfume too much yet when I opened the closet in his room when I was clearing out the room it embraced me and brought back so many memories of different days. They're old days, but far from gone. I don't remember being particularly close to him, but everyone says we were. I remember understanding the passing of time, but never really feeling it. We were immune it seemed, from time itself. I don't remember so many smiles at any other point in my life. I don't remember ever having been so ignorant yet so avidly aware of my surroundings, and what was going on.

But sometimes things happen, and you feel as though your entire life gets thrown off track. Still I believe, that it's my own fault things fell. I let them. Because at the time, I stopped believing in barefooted children and that underwear made the best swim wear and started believing in self pity. It's okay to feel sorry for yourself ever so often, but I became morbidly obsessed with it. I shut down. I hated everything to do with myself. I blamed certain people for the way I was, and refused to get close to anyone else. I wouldn't touch the piano, the shutters were permanently closed and I forgot the feeling of sunlight on my skin. This time stole a few months of my life. Things just get to the point where lying seemed pointless, and the facades of smiles begin to fade. I think things went this way when I lost focus, and found myself entangled within some beautiful lie I had created with a person who I've found to have never been real. I try to think of it as a learning experience. A lesson for my future. But that's just it, I'm left trying because I know that as much as I like to think a lesson learnt means I'll never tread that path again, I'd only be kidding myself. For a while, the basis of everything else, grew from here and not from my roots. That was another mistake I had made. Everything was magnified, I either would push someone away entirely or would never want to let them go. I lost my head for judgment and made assumptions. I had made it past the closed shutters and silence that had gripped everything I'd known, only to bump into people I had confused for my friends. They deserved better, and I ran.

It seems the aftermath of anything - a war, a race, a fire - the aftermath can have an impact almost as great as what gave it birth. My aftermath left me alone from my friends and feeling isolated. But reality teaches us, I was the one utterly confused, and that I was never really alone. I just thought I was. But it was that thought that drove me to push until it became real, because at the time it was all I knew. When all the sweet familiar comfort of old friends began to disappear, I began to measure my friendships as a comparison to every time we had smiled or laughed simply because we had been together that day and someone had done something stupid. This made me sad. I suppose because I was beginning to find that past tense verbs were creeping into my vocabulary and soon anything that was spoken about was short of a reflection of a passing memory they were reluctant to recall. I could see the change my actions had set in motion. Sometimes I wonder about whether or not it was really by my hands that this all happened, but my beliefs are always confirmed when I see that their lives outside of any relation pertaining to myself are moving forward beautifully and flourishing. I try not to wonder about if things could of been different, but rather I think about the future and have a very selective memory of my past. Trying to revive that 8 year old child, the rhythms and sounds, the feelings and thoughts of times when the biggest concern was which destination to embark on the following day.

I miss those days. I really do. I miss having those people who were dubbed as my 'best friends'. I think things will be okay though. Regardless of whether they have changed, there will be new stories and opportunities. I'm sure there has to be. I'll keep trying.

I'm finding more freedom now and more places I want to go. I want to be closer to the family I was distanced from and I want to travel and meet all those people who I would of never met otherwise. I want to find people I can truly rely on and above all I want to be able to tell all those people who I've met, one way or another, I love them.

I think it's like trying to find a song, one that fits perfectly.