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Picture Book Reality

I used to think that the world was made up of fairies and princesses, pixie dust and love. As you grow older your vision changes and you learn that the world is a very cruel place. You learn that "love" can mean bruises and fists. You learn that "love" can leave scars on the inside and out. You learn that happy endings exist only in Disney movies. You learn that tools that can be used to save people's lives are also being used to take them away.
As you grow older, you learn more words, not all of which are pleasant. You learn that people are made fun of because they are different. They mock those with other skin colors, those who cannot afford the same things; those who did not choose the path they tread.
You learn that there are children younger than you who are starving on the streets; children with no place to call home. You see homeless men using money to buy drugs. They're just trying to escape the brutality of this world. My parents used to grab my arm and quicken the pace. They told me not to look. They thought if they didn't see it, it didn't exist. They tried to keep me safe in a bubble so that what I would see when I peered outside would be the picture book version of society. When I saw something scary on the television, my mother would comfort me and say, "Don't worry, it's not real." I don't know why she lied to me like that. I guess it's the same reason parents tell their children that Santa Claus exists; they want to keep them innocent for as long as possible. I used to think the world was made up of fairies and princesses, pixie dust and love. I was wrong.





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coldhearted said...
Apr. 25, 2016 at 3:48 pm
i like this
 
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