My mum recently came across a bag containing some of my old school work. It was nice to see things I’d created when I was much more innocent, when the world hadn’t yet affected me that much. I was just loving life… or was I?
Sadness is when a part of you has died,
It’s as grey as a new pencil lead,
It tastes like a sour grape that won’t digest,
It smells like a freshly cut onion,
It looks like a river of grey is around you,
It sounds like a person inside of you is laughing at you,
It feels like walking over a cobbled street in bare feet.
I don’t even think younger me would know what a freshly cut onion would smell like, I’m not even sure now if it has any distinct smell.
It’s interesting to look back on things I wrote in the past and see how much I’ve changed, or not changed, in the time between then and now. Finding things I wrote as a child makes me more inspired to keep writing so I can look back on things I’m writing now in 5/10 years time and be taken back to how I’m feeling now.