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Lately, I've been feeling as though I was born in the wrong time and place.

This year felt so right. Felt as though I was finally where I was meant to be. Always excited, always inspired. The excitement of little things. Wooden floors and stained glass. Shakespeare and Woolf. My days are numbered, though. And there is something appealing about home turf, where I will always be welcome, indefinitely. In spite of all its imperfections, it feels like the only place where I can be rid of responsibility, even if for a little while. I can think of a million things that bother me, but maybe I haven't really tried to discover it yet.

Sometimes, I wonder how different things would be if the world wasn't so complicated. Everything seems to be getting harder somehow. We have all these machines (remember when there was no computer in your house? Or the days without mobile phones, and no obligations to call someone back? When you couldn't lie about being on your way when you were still putting on your socks? When evenings consisted of being on the streets till dark, inventing games? When people asked you what was going on in your life, instead of following your Facebook and Twitter? When you got letters, and you collected stamps?) and nothing seems to be easier. We pile on degrees and qualifications, and find ourselves in the no-man's land between too many 'better' applicants, and being over-qualified. 

It's not all bad, of course. I mean, we do have Coldplay.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I want to turn back time and live in a period of carriages and lace. When learning was for learning's sake, and of every kind. When being a bookworm meant having walls lined with books, and when there weren't Kindles and iPads. When traveling meant getting on a ship. When photographs could only be touched and held. When a mouse was not welcome inside the house, and cookies were meant to be eaten, and viruses caused the flu.

Sometimes, I wish I could check in on my future self for some answers.

I wonder if I can find them here...