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Childhood.

Childhood.

  • Submitted By: zombway
  • Date Submitted: 03/02/2009 3:51 PM
  • Category: Biographies
  • Words: 311
  • Page: 2
  • Views: 1701

Earlier while I was busy watching potato goop down the drains with water at tempuratues of over 100 degrees, I decided that I miss my childhood. The good memories.
I remember playing house with Jesse and Jessie (I also remember the confusion of their names - hilariously.) when they lived nearby.
Sometimes Chris - who we later dubbed "Monkeyboy" because of his ability to climb trees like Tarzan) would play, too.
Everyday, I would wake up as early as I could to get outside and enjoy the whole entire day, running and screaming, because we could.
My backyard morphed into a lava pit, and our only way around was the swingset. If you touched the grass, you melted.
Jessie picked me flowers, which I later learned were just weeds that looked pretty, but I didn't care.
Red rover, red rover, send Danny right over!
And he'd run full force as we braced ourselves, preparing for the impact, but we were too strong and too stubborn to let a BOY break our grip - no way.
I love seeing the innocence in children. It just upsets me to see them growing up in a corrupt society that's already consuming them whole.
The internet wasn't an issue when I was in primary school.
I only worried about who kissed who. And why everyone else had cool shoes, except me.
I want my imagination to run wild with me again. I want to be easy to enjoy a party with my stuffed animals and feathered boas.
I want to feel giddy because I stayed awake past nine o'clock.
And to carry a purse with only my Barbe in it.
I want this generation of children to embrace what they have, to remember they're innocent and to have as much fun as possible.

I'm a little idiosyncratic.
And I also find reassurance in disorder, it seems.

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