It’s kinda hard to pinpoint exactly when it happened—maybe it was right before the first grade? No —maybe it was during the first grade. Nah. Oh! maybe it was the summer before the second grade?
See, it’s hard to say exactly when it happened, but somewhere in between kindergarten and the second grade it’s stopped being ok to like things. I mean, really like things. Like really really like things
When you were in kindergarten, everyone liked things. No, everyone loved things. Everyone seemed to have their own thing too. You had Hannah who was obsessed with flowers. So much so that all of her school supplies; notebooks, pencils, scissors; were covered in flowers! You also had Lamont who was so into race cars that for his 6th birthday, his mom got him a Disney Cars cake. There was also Michaela, who just really thought bugs were neat. She even knew the names of at over 50 species. Very impressive for a kindergartner!
Everyone loved something. A lot. Even you had your thing.
Then, one day, it suddenly stopped being ok to like things. Somewhere along the way you noticed that things changed in everyone around you. Hannah who wanted to be a florist when she grew up, suddenly stopped caring about the dandelions and the daisies blooming in the cracks by the jungle gym. Lamont still liked race cars for a bit, but he started talking less and less about them. By the 6th grade, he had completely forgot about his nascar dreams. But Michaela still liked bugs. A lot. She got made fun of for it. A lot. Soon even she stopped talking about the ladybugs crawling on the window during science class that left trails of tinted dew.
You saw what happened to Michaela. Would you want that to happen to you? Of course not! I mean, she was teased so hard she had to switch schools. So you gave in to the apathy; afraid to declare your love for the simple things that brought you joy. Only enjoying them in secret when you were by yourself; away from the unenthused cool kids and their disapproving looks for those who reveled in their pleasures.
Let’s face it, you either express your enthusiasm openly and face scorn, or you suppress it and be accepted by your peers. The answer is pretty simple, so you give into the indifference.
The years go by and you still fear wholeheartedly indulging in things. You only allow yourself a few pleasures under the guise of ironic enjoyment. You are not alone though; everyone around you is doing the same thing. Everyone is afraid to admit that they love something. Even afraid to admit it to themselves.
Soon, it starts spilling over. You’re afraid to love someone wholeheartedly. You’re afraid to commit to someone. That fear binds you. Your relationships are distant; with each person afraid to feel. Afraid of being judged for showing too much enthusiasm.
The flowers, race cars, and butterflies we left behind have now become people we leave behind.