if tomorrow comes...
come back, says the childhood. you still belong here. and bring that son of yours too. so he can see how you were. and still are. and how u shouldn't be. how he shouldn't be. what you should've read. and what you shouldn't have. who you should've loved. and how you should've been loved. that you should've gone to school a year later. should've skipped college. and how u should have grown. that you should've grown. into a tall sturdy life-giving tree instead of a stunted cactus with a well-concealed abundance of life.
come adolescence. that refuses to leave. says you should've skipped some of the men. sorry, boys. skipped the insecurities, the shame, the complexes, the pretenses, the hatred, the frustration, the constant craving for objects ephemeral. erase the words spoken in anger, the hands raised in fury, the body escaping from bitter reality. says you should pass over this really long adolescence. and move into the future when you might become an adult. well-equipped to handle, not the world but just yourself. accept the past, the sorrow, the ugliness, the shame. but also accept the beauty, the innocence, the naivete, the passion, the love, the charm, the popularity, the over-confidence, the brashness, the talent, the opportunities, the ease of living. accept the state of adulthood. honed sharp by tribulations. shine pure, bright and golden in the line of fire. accept the heady melange that you are. that that concoction will only get more complex, will rise, brim over and spill. and spill and spill. till it covers the surface of your world. and maybe seep into it, spiking it a little.
and then maybe you will realize that what has happened has happened for a reason. reason being that you chose it. and you are the better for it. but then maybe, you won't realize it as well as your world will.