Written by Annie Noah

As I was

I wonder when it all began.  I could swear on anything that it wasn’t always like this.

Once upon a time, I could boldly define happiness, I knew what joy was and I definitely wasn’t always chasing peace. 

Competition only existed on the playground and comparison was reserved for who had the longest hair, or prettiest lunchbox, or whose school bag had the most superheroes printed on it. 

We didn’t know the word fake. We didn’t know the word real. All we knew was that we played together. And because we played together, we were friends in every sense of the word.

 The silliest jokes made us laugh wholeheartedly and we always loved our teachers no matter how wicked they’d seem when they disciplined us. We weren’t above corrections, and we weren’t ashamed of crying. 

Nobody needed psychology to read a person or their emotions; tears meant we were unhappy, and smiles meant we were happy. The world was as simple as that.

 The vilest person we knew was “Swiper” from “Dora the Explorer” and we were all going to become great people in the society who fought against evil.

We had no idea that we lived in a fictional world and that the rose-colored glasses we were prescribed at birth would slowly lose its medication.

With time we’d learn that a smile could mean something most sinister and that humans would abandon the authenticity of their tears for that of a crocodile.

 We’d learn that the world is more of a spiritual battleground with invisible demons crawling all around than a fantasy land with mystical creatures. 

We’d learn that Dora was very dumb, and we should have never looked up to her. 

We’d learn ego and pride and come to hate corrections and develop spite for anyone who ever tried to discipline us.

Competition would become the driving force of our lives our sole purpose for breathing_ and comparison would become a self-imposed prison.

We’d spend our lifetimes struggling to find happiness and joy would become a fleeting sensation. We wouldn’t even remember what peace was and we would constantly mistake it for calmness and quietness. 

In the process of trying to find the meaning of life, we would miss it entirely.

Then one day, we’d sit and watch our kids cry and get excited over the pettiest of things and we’d think to ourselves: “If only I could go back to being as they are…as I was”.


Text © Annie Noah



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