I think back to when I was young and ignorant. When I was little and all I wanted to do was play. I didn't even need another kid, my imagination and some green army men could entertain me forever. I remember as my imagination slowly started to get to where I couldn't have fun playing the same games I used to. They just didn't interest me anymore. But still all my thoughts of life and the future were so full of blind hope and optimisim like most young kids. I never had any inkling of the lie kids have in their mind about growing up until reality slaps you in the face at some point.
Then when I was a bit older, all the times I took for granted with my father too caught up in my stupid teenage issues blind to the fact that in a few years he'd be gone. Even while living through the loss as he faded away from the horrible disease, still not able to feel the emotions I thought I should be feeling and not able to process what was happening. Even now years later, I still haven't processed it and still have nightmares about it too often. I struggle with the idea of wanting to have a child to further my bloodline yet feeling bad for doing so because I feel like I'd be bringing a child into a bleak reality for them to go through the same mental anguish I have went through after their initial childhood innocence and ignorance. But maybe they would love life and be full of optimisim despite all of that, maybe I'm just broken mentally, I don't know.
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