I like to tell myself that my incessant fear of performing comes from the recitals I endured before I even started attending school.

Realities of Now

As a self-obsessed, youthful child, I feared change like a Californian living on the San Andreas fault. I feared the adolescent force my parents warned me not to become: the unremitting power of the developing teenager. I feared the acceptance of these changes, or what would happen to me when I accepted them. Hopefully I would never, I told myself. But soon, high school arrived, and the prophecy began its tale.

What I once feared became reality; what I believed to be my past self simply became a nebulous childhood retold in flashes of embarrassment. And now, the simplicity of my youth is all I can think about. When I look back at my younger memories, bursts of melancholic nostalgia bleed into my heart.

I find myself yearning for the times when I could spend a whole day playing board games, while the current stresses of exams and college reinforce the fault lines in my cracked world. But I hope that someday I return to my perfectly imperfect childhood paradise, remember the faint memories of my childhood, and, even if just for a day, remember how it feels to be young again.

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