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The Rabbit-hole of Self-Reflection

Here's to growing up, down, sideways, and allways.

I have periodically recalled a summer day, I guesstimate I was 13, and the entire house was to myself. ​ I woke up and ate cereal; my taste buds tell me it was apple jacks but there is a strong chance I ate honey bunches of oats with strawberry. The day was warm and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I remember the weight of the screen door as I pushed it up against the dense pressure of the outside and the creaking sound it made when I let it go and it swung to it's starting position like a metal feather. My dog was alive then, his name was Toby. We kept his food in an aluminum trash receptacle right on our back porch and when I was young I would have to walk up a stepstool or jam the top of the bin into my side and lean over in order to reach the remnants of food at the bottom. I can remember the taste and texture of the air inside of that garbage bin; I think there is a teeny place somewhere in me that has reserved a spot for this smell and taste. We had blankets and mats and sleeping bags that we used mainly for those nights when we pitched a tent in our backyard and slept outside. They have that sweet camping scent. I covered the entire floor of my living room with said mats and blankets. I spent the entire day laying with Toby in my living room and playing video games. Occasionally I would make a bowl of cereal, or let Toby out/in, or go to the bathroom, but mostly I would play and play and play. This, for me, was the ideal summer day. It was the day that I would hide from everyone I knew. I told nobody about it, ESPECIALLY not my Dad or Mom, and I would in secret dream of this happening every day of summer. It was shameful how much I wanted it. I dreamt of surrounding myself in blankets and pillows and great smells and taking care of my favorite animal and playing my favorite game and eating my favorite food and all the while ignorant and numb to the world.

To be honest, nowadays what I really dream of is the antithesis to all of that: to not suffer the consequences for my actions, to not feel shame for spending my time in a less-than-satisfactory fashion, to not feel sick because I'm not eating well, to not be shut off from others due to my selfish time usage, to not be held accountable for my opiatic mindset. I guess all of these dreams are really the same: I dream of never having to grow up. Shit.

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