Kanthala Raghu 28 | ͏t͏e͏c͏h ͏e͏n͏t͏h͏u͏s͏i͏a͏s͏t | ͏b͏l͏o͏g͏g͏e͏r/͏w͏r͏i͏t͏e͏r ͏a͏t ͏h͏t͏t͏p://͏k͏a͏n͏t͏h͏a͏l͏a͏r͏a͏g͏h͏u.͏i͏n. No comments

My thoughts grew up when

I started reading from an early age and lived the lives of adults vicariously through novels/stories. I remember even at the age of seven or eight feeling a sense of disconnection from the other kids at school and a certain dissonance between my mind and child body. This caused me to feel, at the time, that I wasn't a child.

In retrospect, of course, I know that I was a child. I can chart, looking back, the stages of development. But that sense that I wasn't a child makes the transition out of childhood hard to pinpoint. This realization crawled down my stomach like a cold, fat eel. It scared me, the sudden awareness that before me stretched out a finite plane of time and whose end would be my end. No escape. And the loneliness of it all.

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