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Children don’t want anything to interrupt their play. They barely stop and eat. I watch children run — jaws big, with food. They’re running to go play.
As an adult, I want to run to go play too. But the problem is, I want to run to you. You are not my man, but I want you to be. I don’t have one, and you don’t belong to anybody.
I love playing with you. I have a slight tantrum when you can’t come out and play, much like children do when their play time ends. I have a tantrum when mine doesn’t begin.
I’m sure I’d be the laughing stock of the office if they knew how I run to you. I don’t care. They would run to if they felt as I do.
Somehow it became inappropriate for adults to run to go play. True, when I became an adult I put away childish things, but we hardly play the games that children do. We don’t play make-believe or even hide and seek. We don’t play games at all. But I want to play, nonetheless…
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This post was previously published on www.psiloveyou.xyz and is republished here with permission from the author.
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