This ghost town is no friend of mine

This+ghost+town+is+no+friend+of+mine

When do we stop being children? Is it when we get to high school? Maybe when we start to experience tragedy? Or maybe it’s not a specific moment, but rather a lead up of moments preparing us for adulthood. The more tragic, amazing, and beautiful our lives become, the faster we grow up. 

There are certain places in this world that will undoubtedly flood me with memories as soon as I let them back in. Like looking through an old yearbook, my thoughts become the pages—once brand new—now holding the faces of acquaintances that used to be my friends.

Standing here as the memories break down barriers attempting to resurface, I realize I am standing in a ghost town. I stand watching my younger self playing barefoot in the grass. We were untouched by the cruelties of the world then.

Looking back, I see now that I was content with life. Nothing was ever so terrible that I couldn’t handle it, but I know now that reality is gone.

I suppose too many tragic, amazing, and beautiful things have happened to us to ever just be content again—some might even call it growing up. 

The people we used to be are long gone. Replaced now with charming, intelligent, and, most of all, strong young adults. However, with this newfound independence, we seem to have let our innocence slip away. 

As I watch new generations play hide and seek in the same places we used to, my heart aches for that same innocence, knowing these children will grow up one day, just as we did. 

I suppose too many tragic, amazing, and beautiful things have happened to us to ever just be content again

This place is like a ghost town; when I am here, I half expect to turn the corner and see a younger version of us. You would say, “Ha! I found you,” but maybe that was our last time playing hide and seek—one will never know. 

When I am here, I swear I can feel their presence. I know every inch of this place, and yet it doesn’t feel familiar. The playground we used to swing on has been torn down, and the grass, although the same, appears a little duller since we last rolled around in it. 

Those days are long gone, and we all know it. Leaving me only with fond memories, a great knowledge of the best hiding spots, and this ghost town of which I used to call home.