Vision à travers les âges

Do you remember how happy we were in your youth, to grow up and become an adult? Are you still haunted by these excited eyes that were amazed by everything they gazed upon? I am. I look behind, at the me from all those years ago, and I imagine how he would react if he saw his older self that I am now, whose youngish dreams are now laying, broken, smashed, at the side of the road.

In my mind, I see him staring at me with a fearful expression in his innocent eyes, refusing to believe that the boy in front of him, who once dreamed of being a scientist, an inventor, someone who would change the world into a better place for all to be, is now just living trying to make it though each day without breaking into pieces. And I know he wouldn't be able to believe, to accept the fact that his present self don't even dare thinking about his own future.

To grow up is a wonderful, we were taught to think. But when looking behind is scarier than looking blindly ahead, there is reason to wonder if we really live through life like on a highway, or like a car on full speed trying to stay on the road while the road behind is crumbling at the same speed. The past, it seems, could be more of a cliff than the future could ever be.