I believe that the best years of my life were five through twelve. Life is getting too dramatic and serious, and I yearn for the days of watching cartoons and looking forward to recess at school, giant grass field waiting to be played on. Everyday I wish I could read short colorful books with more pictures than words, not four hundred paged opuses to migrant workers. I wish for getting home at two and riding bikes with friends, not driving home at seven and doing homework. I like to remember how simple it was when I was ten years old, and not how complex it is being a sixteen year old.
I say to act immature sometimes just for the hell of it. Watch Nickelodeon, make some mac and cheese, pull out the old recorder from fourth grade music, or just remember playing tag, and think about how much better it was back then. When I was eleven my favorite thing to do was to play ninjas with my best friend Zach. Now I think to myself how stupid a game it was but, in my preadolescence, it was the most fun thing in the world. I think about how from first to fourth grade my favorite TV show was an extraordinarily over the top Japanese animated show about superheroes, and I look up clips of it on the web. When I struggle with Pre-Cal, I reminisce about when I didn’t even know what “x” was.
It really is true that oblivion is bliss because when you’re a child you have no idea that the economy just went down the tubes or the ramifications of a terrorist attack. I heard about the 9/11 attacks in my art class in fourth grade, and I didn’t bat an eye at it. It might seem cold, but I had no clue what the World Trade Center, Al Qaeda, or a 747 was. Now every time I watch the news it seems like the world will end before I get out of college. I believe that entire world is better when you’re eight.
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