The Youth

I finally had a day off from school and work so I sat down, determined to understand what Oscar Wilde meant about Youth. His work is surprising to me in some ways. I understand the beauty of youth, I think... But at the same time, I can't help but wonder if one would be as bitter if they had helped others and done good with their beauty. Would you have as many bitter regrets in the end? 

I Want to illustrate themes of selfishness, consumption of beauty, the end of the road as far as beauty goes. The sort of "flame going out" point in someone's life. When youth the beauty of youth is extinguished, what does that look like? What can be seen in that person's eyes? The eyes of a baby are so different from the eyes of a thirty-something person. What happens to us? Do we actually deteriorate or do we become accustomed to the world around us and lose our amazement? What takes place behind those eyes while all of this is happening. 

I think it is wishful thinking that I could understand all of this. Watching children grow seems like the only way to see development. There is a baby on the floor crawling in front of me. He looks outside and smiles up at strangers. Everyone adores him. Inquisitive. The world is his even in his helplessness. If he needs an assuring touch, those around him are there, even in a glance. There is a light in those eyes that you can't find in a twenty-something. We start to become bitter I think. It brings me to tears thinking about it. Even I have lost my youth and I am yet 23. I wonder how much time I have left.

I want to express this in some sort of work. I'm thinking still . . .