But now that I’m older
My heart’s colder
And I can see that it’s a lie.
I’m in this weird place where Arcade Fire knows me better than anybody. Even though I’m 16, just a few months ago I would carefully arrange all my stuffed animals on my bed so as not to hurt any of their feelings. I still think of them by their names and have a sense of their distinct personalities.
When I walked home the other night, I pretended I was from a different planet, or a different time. I was full of fake wonder.
Real wonder is no longer part of my life. I’m not a child anymore. In a way, this is something I’ve always wanted, but now that I know I’m grown up, it’s sad. It happened too fast. I’m old and bitter.
At 16 I understand death better than I hoped I ever would. I understand grief and pain more than I wish I did. I did months ago, too, but only now has the last bit of innocence managed to escape. The world looks almost completely dark.
Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
I’ve gained weight and don’t have the body of a child anymore. I was skinny and boyish-looking less than a year ago.
My heart is darker now. For years it’s been hardening and now it’s finished. ♦