Challenge 35. Things Lost

221. Your biggest loss

As a child, I took the poster of Ariel and copied it down exactly onto a blank piece of white paper. I tried to match the colors exactly the way they were and trace the lines as accurately as possible. No matter how hard I tried, it never looked the same. I was disappointed. I cried. My mother would run to be, take me in her arms, and rock me till I fell asleep. I would wake up later, having forgotten what had happened, and would sit down and try again.

When I feel off the bike, I would scrape my knee and lay there, being the dramatic child I was, and cry but act like a hero with a long, red cloth hanging from his shoulders. I would get up, run to my mother, and ask me to apply some Dettol, with cotton and everything just to look important.

When I scored high in my papers, I would have a winning smile on my face. I would show it to all my friends and shine in their admiration, without feeling the tiniest bit of guilt or shame for having showed-off. Even when I would fail again, I would still be happy of my previous accomplishments.

When my sister and I walked home from school, the scary shoe-man from the side of the road would call us. I would repeat the phrase "Don't talk to strangers" in my head, grab my little sister's hand, and walk briskly back home.

When there was a family gathering, they would ask me to sing and dance, while all of them sat back and relaxed. I would walk up confidently and dance to the beats of their clapping, while twirling around all on my own.

When I was taken to the library, I would pick out the books with large pictures. I would sit on the comfortable couch and flip through the pages, trying to make the illustrations real and become a part of it myself.

When it was Children's Day at my school, I would ask my mom to make me a dress just like the one Miss Nepal wore. With that height of honor and pleasure, I would walk into the school, feeling like a queen, with the green silk glowing majestically in the sunlight.

But, when I gave my first art exam, things started to seem different. I drew hills, and trees, and flowers, and a river, and also a sun with a big, smiling face. However, in front of the class, I heard the teacher scold another child for drawing a smiling face of the sun. She screamed, "Do you really thing the sun can smile?" Reality seemed to struck that day as I quickly erased the smiling face from mine.

All these things, the little things that are shown in these childish events, I have lost: the curiosity, the amazement, the confidence, the importance I felt, and the mind to take chances and to never give up. Reality seemed to have struck me as I drew away from my childhood. It became harder to be confident in front of a group of people and more difficult not to just thrown my hands into the air and admit that I can't do this anymore. I don't mean that I am a completely hopeless human being at present. No. I mean that these qualities became harder to enhance once I grew up. And other things started to matter more: what I wore, how I looked, what people thought, and things that really shouldn't bother me at all. So everyday, I try to gain back the innocence and the beauty of childhood and hope that I can take these qualities away from my childhood and into adulthood.