I’m a child at heart (And I always will be)
About a year ago, Coraline, the legendary stop-motion film, was re-released in theaters. Since I had never seen it before, I rushed in. This was the perfect chance to enjoy it for the first time. The movie blew me away, to the point where I was truly moved; more than that: in awe; thinking, “I can't believe someone made this".
I stared straight at the screen, sitting in the darkness of the theater, immersed in a universe that was pure fantasy, while discreetly wiping a tear from my right eye. On one side was my brother, on the other my mom, and Coraline isn’t exactly a tearjerker, so I shut the faucet of my tear ducts to avoid raising any alarms.
A 30-year-old man, holding back tears, shaken by the sheer wonder of witnessing something so artistically breathtaking, watching Coraline for the first time in his life. That was me, a year ago, reminded that deep down I’m still a kid. Feeling what Coraline’s character expresses so beautifully in every scene of this masterpiece.
If there’s one thing this movie masterfully does, it’s convey that magical notion of being a child, that innocence paired with endless creativity. Coraline’s adventure feels like the kind you could dream up in a friend’s backyard, where the neighbor turns into an ugly witch and the lazy house cat talks and holds all the answers.
But believe it or not, this post isn’t about Coraline. Watching it just reminded me of something I’ve always known, but that the burdens of adult life try to make me forget every single day: deep down I’m still a child at heart, and I refuse with all my strength to stop being one.
I’m sure at some point you saw one of those cheesy Tumblr or Facebook images that say: “Don’t grow up, it’s a trap!” You think the trap is adult responsibilities, the pains that comes with aging, or no longer seeing your friends every day. But the real trap is buying into the narrative that “growing up” means killing your inner child.
For generations, people have looked down on men and women who grow up keeping their creativity and boldness to express it intact. Adults who play, laugh, and express their emotions are pointed at and ridiculed. Why? What has it given us? Silent men who explode with violence when they can’t keep swallowing their feelings anymore, and women who belittle or mock anyone who dares act “childish”. 1
My whole life I’ve seen the adults around me (older than me, anyway, because though I sometimes forget, I’m an adult too) doing everything they can to hide their inner child, even when the occasion calls for it, even when they’re playing with their own kids. As if doing so were a sign of weakness, or a threat to their reputation. Needless to say, those adults suck and they’re boring as fuck.
But they’re also the ones who end up ruining everything for everyone. They’re probably the ones who wrote all those endless articles mocking millennials for being “immature”. Or, on another (extreme) level, the ones who start wars; or who invented the stock market.2
I think the best way to fight this parade of dullness is to hold on to our inner child until the day we die. Keep creating, keep expressing, keep playing. Keep changing the world through imagination, not ambition.
Having an inner child should never be seen as a weakness. On the contrary, it’s proof of resilience; a form of resistance. Taking care of it and keeping it alive shows that our willpower is stronger than the rot surrounding the world.
I am a child at heart. I work, I eat, I move, I pay my debts, I nurture my relationships. I do "adult stuff", and none of that has to stop me from feeding the part of myself that needs compassion, that keeps me sane and sensitive toward the world and others.
I am a child at heart. Because I love video games, because I love stories that show me fantastic worlds, because I get excited when I open a pack of Yu-Gi-Oh! cards and pull my chase card, because I think animals are amazing, because I watch cartoons and anime, because I enjoy acting stupid, because I still imagine stories, because I love drawing even if I’m not great at it, because I get angry sometimes and cry when I need to.
I completely refuse to be the kind of adult man society has shown me for so long. That monolith who says three words a day and only knows how to work himself to death; who drinks alcohol to relax and is forbidden from doing “kid stuff” out of fear of being immature.
In that movie theater, for a moment I thought: “What’s happening? Why am I so moved?” Even though deep down, I already knew the answer.
I was feeling a mix of nostalgia, admiration, and guilt. Nostalgia for my childhood; admiration for those who tell stories like this; and guilt because for too long I’ve turned my back on my creative aspirations, and along with them, the child inside me. Out of fear, out of shame, out of the damn “what will people say”, "what if I fail?". Out of not daring. Like when I was a kid letting my imagination run wild, talking and doing and talking and doing with no fear of being judged.
Keep collecting Labubus, keep painting Warhammer miniatures, keep buying Pokémon cards, or filling your stuff with Sanrio stickers if that makes you happy. Keep letting your imagination fly, and create with the boldness of a child demanding to be heard, because they know they have something important to say.