When I was little I wanted to grow up and have five kid and even more dogs. I didn't understand that all of that would be obscenely expensive. I did not acknowledge that having kids was painful. I wanted a house like my parents with a yard and an attic with corkboard ceilings. And I wanted to get married to someone who was nice to me and made me laugh.
And then I got older and things got worse. I don't know if it was just the added awareness of how the world is on fire and we're trapped on it's surface. Or maybe it was hormones and clinical depression. But, either way, childhood dreams turned into my worst nightmare. It was a fantasy to believe I could maintain any kind of romantic relationship long enough to get hitched and find a place to call home. It wasn't even likely I'd live past 18.
But I lived past 18 and 19 and 20 and just kept surfing on these waves of emotions. One day I'm optimistic and soon enough my chest hurts so much all I can do is sob. I miss being a kid where I didn't have to worry about who I owe money to or how many people I know that have died. I hadn't yet lost count of how many times I'd wanted to end it all. I hadn't even started counting.
And I look at kids get more and more hopeless at younger and younger ages. They're scared of getting shot in their classroom. I'm scared for them. School might feel like a prison, but it shouldn't be one where you have the chance of the death penalty just for showing up.
I don't know if I could put a kid through that. I don't know if I could handle sending children into a war zone, hoping they don't step on a landmine.
And it's all hypothetical anyway, because I have serious doubts that anyone will see past the pile of pills on my counter and the fact that part of me still believes I won't have to take them someday. That I can be happy. If I can remember what that was like.
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