Growing Young

I can still remember the days where my toys used to be my best friends, where Cinderella story sounded real, and ghosts were my only fear, but the days had passed and I have grown up, and I learned that best friends are rare, I learned that Cinderella story is not the only fairytale and ghosts are not the greatest fear, I learned to hear the pain in the loudest laugh and glimpse a tear in the sweetest smile, and I was told that even the shining moon has a dark side, filled up with rocks and sands not with songs and roses.

I have grown up and understood that happy ending are found only in television, that things won’t work themselves out in the last 15 minutes, and that goodness might not always win, I’ve seen life from the eyes of the grown ups and yet I couldn’t understand it all as they said I would, I grew up and the only thing I understand is that life is a tough place, where hearts get broken, minds get lost and people will die, life indeed is a tough place and you need to be a hero to survive.

But a small part of me still carries the child I used to be, and among all he can still find the light, and feels the pleasure of a dream; I see hope in that child as he whispers to me that I shall be fine, and so I was, shows me the hidden beauty in life that shines is certain moments, when happiness is close to the heart, in laughs with friends, in a small chat with a loved one, in a dinner meal with family and in a dream that comes true, life may be a fairytale that can’t be learned in books and stories, and can’t be understood neither by children nor adults.



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