I want the old me. The person who thinks life is beautiful when listening to good music; who escapes into another world when reading a good book; who smiles when smelling in the morning breeze; who snuggles in bed when the rain pours down.

When was the last time I did any of this?

Sometimes growing up is so painful, when the multiple coats of childish naivety slowly strips off. The constant bitter blast of reality leaves me gasping in shock-coming in bouts, but never ending. Again and again. One day, I would be stripped bare, filled only with emptiness.