L
Today as I was again wagecucking I thought how I was with my parents back then trapped in a traffic jam; it was incredibly hot (due to the mediterranean climate in the summer) and I was in the backseat of my car. I remember that I had different books about lizards with me. I remember reading them over and over again. For me this was a good memory and I wished that I could return to that time.
For a normal person this would be a completely forgettable experience, not worthy of mentioning. But for me these memories still represent something that was so unbelievably better than my life nowadays. I even look back fondly at memories that others would have hated; the way how my mother forced me to learn -even in the summer holidays or in a public restaurant (sometimes even yelling at me there/insulting me)-, but still back then I still felt remotely alive in the sense of wanting to learn/experience the environment.
Even bad memories (like getting my first severe head injury, nearly losing an eye, being on a ferry in a storm while reading an E-book, etc.) feel better for me than this grey nothingness of adulthood. I was a bullied child with very strict parents (back then, nowadays they are far too laxative for my own good), but still my childhood brings me nothing more than nostalgia (despite a huge proportion of it being spent in psychiatries/therapies that were more harmful than useful back then or as the punching bag for others).
For a normal person this would be a completely forgettable experience, not worthy of mentioning. But for me these memories still represent something that was so unbelievably better than my life nowadays. I even look back fondly at memories that others would have hated; the way how my mother forced me to learn -even in the summer holidays or in a public restaurant (sometimes even yelling at me there/insulting me)-, but still back then I still felt remotely alive in the sense of wanting to learn/experience the environment.
Even bad memories (like getting my first severe head injury, nearly losing an eye, being on a ferry in a storm while reading an E-book, etc.) feel better for me than this grey nothingness of adulthood. I was a bullied child with very strict parents (back then, nowadays they are far too laxative for my own good), but still my childhood brings me nothing more than nostalgia (despite a huge proportion of it being spent in psychiatries/therapies that were more harmful than useful back then or as the punching bag for others).
