Childhood

I’ve written about it, I talked about it, I thought about it. I still often think about it. I want to relive it again, I want to experience the feeling I get from all those games we played till the midnight. I want to get drunk of the summer air at night and street lamps, I want to feel so sleepy and I want to sing, I want to have the strength only to crash on my bed when I get home. I want to be a kid again. I want to have those cool pens which have a little lamp which turns on when you write and the liquid inside of it with some sparkles and thingies which float in it. Or the ones where you have in one pen like more little ones so you change them as you spend them. I want to draw people as squares and I want to feel proud when I draw two people from profile and color their skin yellow. I want to feel success when I find the skin color within my wooden color pens and I want to play with the ball all day and to have a water gun fight when it’s hot. I want to go to the new park around and swing, run and play on all those knew stuff without being afraid of braking it or excepecting from parents of little kids to start yelling. I recently found a tree house. I’ve always wanted to find one but never had a chance to. Now that I’ve found it I want to spend days up there. Beneath it there are wooden trains, swings and teeters. I want to draw there, dream up there and write inside of it. I want to eat cookies and act like a kid. I want to have people who with I will feel like a child. And I attempted to do it, but when I thought of buying a new pen or making a spaceship or a house out of umbrellas or a car out of pillows and stuffed animals, or having a stuffed pet who I will take care of 24/7 I got scared that I will ruin it, that I will hurt my childhood and maybe kill it. It is an undescirbeble feeling that I might can hurt my childhood. Like I can hurt it physically and mentally, like it is a person, like it is a child itself. Should I try? I want it badly but I can’t let it get hurt. I just might stick to playing with a ball and drawing, maybe a couple of things, but I will not let it get hurt. I will try to document as much memories of it as possible so I don’t lose it. Childhood gives me comfy, cozy, melancholic feeling, stressless and careless days, imagination.  I won’t write memories now, I will write them as the time comes for each one.

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