Junior School

I remember the kids’ vibrant and youthful voices filling the void in my mind with playfulness. I remember the dark skies shielding me from the truths of what lay beyond them, while we brushed past the greenery in our chosen form of transportation. I remember my closest friends’ voices comforting me when I was lower than the great abyss of the ocean. I remember the dark playground when the cold arrived. I remember the cold as well, which could only be warmed by the positive emotions and laughter provided by myself and those around me I kept close. I remember, of course, heartbreak and leaving my friends with frowns on all our faces; sometimes, tears were shed. I can’t remember the period of my life when my vocabulary was limited and when my life was made up of memories of little kids rushing around me as we went to parks during recess. I want to remember what I believed, when I was young and innocent. I want to remember more of my past self, who I was, who I thought I was meant to be.


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