The Burden of Growing Up

I used to laugh every day, until I became a child who was too afraid to cry. People envied me, thinking
that I did not know sorrow. They did not understand how their words pierced my wounds. I am not
stronger than anyone else; I just learned how to hide my pain. If you see me smiling quietly, it's because
I'm pretending to be strong.

The recklessness of youth and the sorrow of today are buried deep inside me, transformed into so-called
maturity. I don't care about sadness or desolation anymore, wiping away the tears in the corner of my
eyes. I put on a smile and give you a bright sunshine.

On the path of growing up, I skip over the sorrows and stop to admire the past.

The sunflowers facing the sun, rooting in our hearts.

On the barren plain, there are old and weathered tombstones, engraved with the story of our growth.
The shadows of the trees sway over the words on the tombstone with the passing sunlight. The birds fly
with trembling wings, their distant cries mourning for the lost youth. Our real smiles died at the fork in
time, buried in a hurry. Clasping our hands tightly, hiding the tears that spread across our palms,
stubbornly not allowing anyone to look.

Who told me that the tears of the soul have no shape? Our growth is intertwined with the lines on our
palms, it is entangled, hiding, binding, and restraining. The light of the North Star illuminates the
illusions of the world, at that grand ball, the pale ghosts mourn for the innocence of our growth.

I thought that if I just laughed hard enough, I could forget the passing time. I also thought that if I was
happy enough, I could forget the loneliness in my heart.

The clock ticks away, and the old man of time does not look back. Will anyone be like Peter Pan, never to
grow up? If the old man of time forgets to take you away, is it a tragedy or a utopia in your heart?

Dreams tell you that there is a ladder called time that leads to a peaceful paradise, where there is no
panic for lost toys, no sadness for not getting candy. People walk from one end of time to the other,
finally worn out, and weary, but they have won their growth.

When you understand that life is a play directed by God, he smiles and tells you what emptiness is, and
what is chasing the wind. Life is ultimately a cycle. Those stories keep replaying like black and white
movies, and they all revolve around growth, encompassing all the pain.

When the moon and the sun shine together in front of you, we all know that:

One is a child's wish, and the other is an adult's sorrow.

In fact, neither of them wants to grow up.

Growing Up is a Burden.