I think it is a shift worth noticing that as you grow older, you want less.
You want less pain, less worries, less of this feeling of being the only one to feel so horrendously lost.
But as a child, you had always wanted more. More sweets, more time being awake before going to bed, more tickles and more piggy-back rides. More, more, more.
It reminds me of a child, a prince who lives in a faraway planet with his rose.
“Dessine-moi un mouton // Draw me a sheep.” And then the one sheep wasn’t it. It wasn’t enough. And so, one more. And another. Until he had the one he wanted. I wonder what he would think sometimes, of the adults we have become.
I have never been greedy for the world. Have never chased fame or money. But now, I might think about wanting more. More happiness rather than less misery. More days out with friends in the place of less responsibility. If you think about it, to want less without also wanting more is the premise for a miserable life, the recipe for unwritten novels and untrodden paths. To want less without wanting more is to live off of a waning survival instinct which, like a blade, gets duller each time it is used.
Yeah, I think I cannot wait to crave Life again. And that’s already a good sign.