When we were kids, things were simpler.
Be it our first steps or our first strokes on a paper or our first ride on a bicycle, there was always someone who had our back. If we happened to stumble, someone lent a hand. If our strokes were bent, someone taught us how to do it right. If we fell off the bike, someone picked us up and wiped our tears.
So we were not afraid to fall. We were not afraid to fail.
Our smiles were simpler.
Our words were easy.
Our eyes glimmered with hope.
If, back then, someone had told us we’d fly if we jump down the terrace, we’d have gladly done that, for we knew no fear.
When we were tucked into our blankets and whispered fairy tales, we believed they were true.
And then…
We grew up.
Smiles were no longer simple. They hid a plethora of emotions.
Each word was carefully uttered, strategically planned in advance.
Our eyes gleamed, not with hope, but with confusion.
Fear resounded in every corner of our minds. The world seemed scary.
We were careful at every step, afraid that we might fall. If our strokes were not perfect, we let them be, for there was no one to teach us. When we fell, no one was around.
And the fairytale we had dreamed of, almost every night, seemed to slip right through our fingers.
What changed in those few years?
Did we?
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