older now

i was old at twenty,

cynical in the ways of love,

having loved and lost a time or two.

 

i was smarter than i am now,

certain of my conclusions and stances,

able to categorize the world neatly into black and white.

 

i was deep and bottomless,

a well of emotions and important feelings routinely emoted,

a swinging pendulum that vacillated from despair to euphoria.

 

i lived and time passed.

i watch the me that was and marvel at the pretentiousness,

amusing now that i know

that twenty is only a toe in the shallows of all that will come.

 

i’m younger now at forty,

innocent and inexperienced,

unprepared for the vastness of emotion that life offers.

 

undereducated and ill-equipped,

but aware of my lacking knowledge,

growing more accepting,

seeing now life’s tones and shadows and greys.

 

i am flip and glib and skate the surface,

more careful with my heart and soul.

time brings an understanding of how low you can fall.

 

i am more than i thought, and

everything is bigger and sharper and infinitely more complex,

and the only certainty i have is that

i’m not fully grown.

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things start to make sense. I suppose that once I figure out life, the universe, and everything (my thanks to Douglas Adams), I'll have nothing left to say. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow

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