Magic We Grew Up In
(Image by wahyu_t on Freepik)
I spent most of my childhood wondering what it would feel like to be an adult. I imagined freedom; making my own choices, staying up late, buying snacks, deciding what mattered. Adulthood looked like a shining place where everything finally made sense. Nobody told us it would feel less like freedom and more like juggling responsibilities we never asked for. Now that I’m here, adulthood is mostly laundry, hair-wash schedules, deadlines, and trying not to let life overwhelm you.
Childhood had a softness we didn’t recognize then. Time stretched endlessly; a single day felt long enough to truly live. Now, time slips through our fingers. Back then, our biggest worry was finishing homework before a cartoon started. Today, stress arrives as bills, expectations, projects, schedules, and the quiet pressure to “have it all figured out.”
Birthdays show the shift clearly. As children, birthdays were magical; choosing the dress, inviting friends, imagining the games. Loud music, sweaty dancing, samosas and cake, cold Fanta in tiny cups, and wafers that disappeared too fast. Everyone came. You felt loved without questioning it. But as we grow older, the crowd shrinks. People move away, get busy, drift out of our lives. Birthdays stop being a spotlight and become just another date. When I turned nineteen, I spent one birthday alone. Not heartbreaking; just a gentle reminder that adulthood often arrives quietly. And in that quiet, you learn to hold your own hand.
Vacations changed too. Childhood vacations were pure joy; running until our legs gave up, laughing at everything, returning with messy hair and sand in our shoes. No planning, no responsibilities, just joy appearing naturally. Now vacations mean budgets, planning, coordination, and returning to piled-up work. What we miss isn’t the destination; it’s being carefree.
Even exam seasons were different. Childhood exams, though stressful, were productive. Teachers taught everything, parents ensured we learned everything, and somehow we still revised. Mistakes were allowed; “To err is human” was repeated everywhere. Perfection wasn’t demanded. But somewhere along the way, the world changed its rules. Now we skim through material and hope we survive. The goal shifted from learning to enduring.
And underneath all of this sits childhood’s greatest privilege; naivety. Back then, the world felt kinder. Trust was easy, friendships simple, joy effortless. Naivety wasn’t ignorance; it was freedom. Today we analyse everything, anticipate disappointment, and prepare for the worst. We quietly outgrew innocence like old shoes, because the world told us to.
Childhood comparisons feel almost unreal now. Playing outside for hours was normal; today a fifteen-minute walk feels like an achievement. Friendships formed instantly; now trust takes months. Success once meant finishing homework; now goals stack endlessly. Tears came freely; now we swallow them. Sleep was natural; now rest feels earned.
Strange, isn’t it? We spent childhood wanting to grow up, and adulthood wanting the pieces we left behind. Maybe the solution isn’t to run back, but to carry something forward. The child we were still lives inside us—the part that wants to dance to one good song, laugh too loudly, eat cake for no reason, and rest without guilt.
Maybe the point isn’t to escape adulthood but to soften it. Because life doesn’t need to be perfect to be beautiful. And we don’t have to grow away from the child we used to be.
#rentisdue #rcos #beyondX #थांबायच नाय
