In body but not in spirit

I grew up in a concrete jungle. Glass was visible for miles on end, blending in with the sky, blinding my eyes. Over the years, despite staying in this sophisticated cage, my soul has slowly drained, and my strength has steadily waned. The city I grew up in no longer felt the same.

During the early days, what I experienced was akin to that of any other happy-go-lucky child. The playground was my camping ground, and the swing was my tent. I sought refuge in the adrenaline rush, willed myself to savour the moment (even when my body was oblivious, my mind knew time was precious).

All too soon, years passed and school started to take its toll. I no longer returned to the playground, and when I walked past it on the way to tuition class, I could feel my heart clench in yearning. Oftentimes now, I find myself up at night. Unable to sleep, my mind would wander to memories long past, memories that hold a taste sweeter than the lemons I'm fed with today. It fills my chest with the deepest sense of longing, of warmth, and of sadness.

Where did the time go? How scary it is. That as the years go by and the memories start to fade around the edges, though I would give everything to go back to the past, I still wake up every morning, numb to the lure of the past, and go on with my life, day by day.