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A Separate World

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It’s funny how the tables have turned. Ten short years ago I sat right at that miniature desk in my miniature chair in my miniature body, living in a world that was perfect for me. Walking through my elementary school doors was a promise of safety and happiness. Here I was at home in my own protective bubble that locked out the cold dangers and terror of the outside world. Now, here I stand in the place I used to call home, and I have never felt more like a stranger. That bubble of protection popped the day I exited those welcoming doors and was hit with the harsh reality that the world I was living in was a fantasy in comparison to real life. The classrooms of my elementary school were only one small corner of a much bigger world. But within those walls ten years ago, I was a small girl in a small world. Now ten years later, I am still a relatively small girl in a much bigger and realer world.

 

In this school I was a young seed that was planted, and with time I have changed and blossomed into the person I am today. My roots are deeply buried in this school and it is clear that I have left as much as a mark on this school as it has left on me. This school is a token of where I began the journey to become the individual I am today. Without doubt the memories and lessons I have learned within these walls have become a major component of my identity. In this room I entered the elite club of knowing how to tie my own shoes, and not only did I learn the alphabet but I had the honor of attending the wedding of Q and U. Today I am proud to have given myself the title as a shoe tying pro, and I am now living in a world where the alphabet belongs more in math than a catchy song. Through all the change I realize something; my life has been built on a division of two separate worlds. Standing in this school I have crossed the line that has separated these chapters of my life, my past from my present and future.  In this world of colored pencils, crayons, snack times, nap times, and early dismals, everything was so pure and simple. However, this chapter of my life has come to an end.

 

As I walk around my classroom a wave of numbness sweeps through my body. Somehow in a world of constant evolution this school has remained stoic to change. The bubble of youth and freedom has immortalized the building. It’s as if the building has drained me of my youth to keep itself alive. Although the room has stayed the same, the same cannot be said for me. I am no longer the young, naïve girl that walked through this school. I have grown to become the strong individual I now am.  It has been said, “A person doesn’t know how good something is until it is gone.” Growing up hearing this, I can now attest to this as being true. I was never able to truly understand and appreciate my youth while I had it. Although I am now able to cherish the memories I have created, it is something that I can never get back. Thus, in the bitter cycle of life, the death of one’s youth is inevitable. My school is a graveyard where my childhood died, yet I know in my heart that the memories of this school will live on forever.






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