One thing I’ve never quite understood is when people say how life was magically uncomplicated when they were young. I am 31, which admitting is still youngish, but I don’t remember my childhood as an uncomplicated affair. Or my young adulthood. Or whatever sort of adulthood I am in now. Quite the contrary…
But I guess there is comfort in conjuring up some form of nostalgia even if imagined and false. I guess the logic is if things were ever good, then they can be good again.
I don’t think anything can ever be just simple when emotions are concerned.
With that said, sometimes things don’t need to be complicated but we go out of our way to make them so… because we are afraid of change and we’re used to our rut no matter how chafing and corrosive it might be. Or because we are deluding ourselves with hope that things might change.
