Post by Light on Oct 6, 2014 19:34:54 GMT -5
♥ Only (✦థ ｪ థ)
At three years old, one looks up at the knees of their parents and starts measuring how much farther they have till they pass them. At four, crazy dreams of adventure and impossible goals like coloring the sky green by mixing in yellow start to get sketched across paper in crayons and permanent markers. Those dreams don't last long though, because soon, as they reach five, they're told by their parents that 'no, you can't,' because 'it's no possible.' Dreams are smothered under stacks of papers that teach them numbers and letters and facts when you reach six and start getting graded. You still don't color in the lines though--you're an individual with a big map that you just don't want to understand because just a year ago numbers didn't mean anything to you.
Now, at seven, you know better than to yell out what your elders have branded as foolish, because you're a big kid now. That doesn't mean that every now and again you can't step out of the lines and dare to smear a new color--to challenge the numbers and the titles. You'll go home after your experience and suffer through being reprimanded for being so foolish, and then be sent to your room.
But today, shouldering his bright blue backpack and trudging forward in his cool new sneakers--which, by the way, had a new ranger (the blue one) on them!--a little boy looked bound and determined to sneak around the teachers at the gate. He shuffles around the woman in an apron and bites down on his lip before making a break for it out the gate. His name is called, but the worker doesn't give chase as she has lots of other kids that looked ready to blow the joint. Weaving through the crowd, he lets out a piteous squawk as the sky suddenly opens up in a downpour.
Lifting his bag over his head, the frail-looking boy with feather-like brown hair sticks close to the side of the building to his left, and starts walking. A few passing by glanced down at him to stare--because on either side of his nose, above a pinched frown, as a pair of sea-foam eyes that were a lighter, greener shade than the bright blue of his backpack and his shoes.
At three years old, one looks up at the knees of their parents and starts measuring how much farther they have till they pass them. At four, crazy dreams of adventure and impossible goals like coloring the sky green by mixing in yellow start to get sketched across paper in crayons and permanent markers. Those dreams don't last long though, because soon, as they reach five, they're told by their parents that 'no, you can't,' because 'it's no possible.' Dreams are smothered under stacks of papers that teach them numbers and letters and facts when you reach six and start getting graded. You still don't color in the lines though--you're an individual with a big map that you just don't want to understand because just a year ago numbers didn't mean anything to you.
Now, at seven, you know better than to yell out what your elders have branded as foolish, because you're a big kid now. That doesn't mean that every now and again you can't step out of the lines and dare to smear a new color--to challenge the numbers and the titles. You'll go home after your experience and suffer through being reprimanded for being so foolish, and then be sent to your room.
But today, shouldering his bright blue backpack and trudging forward in his cool new sneakers--which, by the way, had a new ranger (the blue one) on them!--a little boy looked bound and determined to sneak around the teachers at the gate. He shuffles around the woman in an apron and bites down on his lip before making a break for it out the gate. His name is called, but the worker doesn't give chase as she has lots of other kids that looked ready to blow the joint. Weaving through the crowd, he lets out a piteous squawk as the sky suddenly opens up in a downpour.
Lifting his bag over his head, the frail-looking boy with feather-like brown hair sticks close to the side of the building to his left, and starts walking. A few passing by glanced down at him to stare--because on either side of his nose, above a pinched frown, as a pair of sea-foam eyes that were a lighter, greener shade than the bright blue of his backpack and his shoes.
