Growing up I’d no idea that I was slowly being painted out of the painting, that someone else was going to take my place, because what I longed for was now coming true. I wish I were more grateful. I wish things could just stay in the place that they’re meant to be in. But it isn’t so. Everywhere I see others so eager to be something they’re not, something far above them and I feel sad. As a child on my playground, my castle, I was fearless and what I had was all I needed. I could escape from everything. I could be something great in my own eyes. When you’re great though, you feel that you need more to be great. Shiny credit cards, a double storey house, independent women with handbags and the loss of innocence: adults. How did I ever come to love this..?


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