I once remember the days feeling as bright as the sunshine could possibly beam. It was a time of innocence and excitement that never had any sort of limit to its emotion. The young colors of the sky in all seasons expressed the products of nature. Wind, rain, snow, or sun; the colors were still bright to me. It was a time before everything; knowing others and their darkest sides, or exposure to the crimes of humanity. However, the bits of cluelessness still continued to grow smaller by the years. We all experienced, experimented, and encountered. The shock of stepping outside of our comfort zones was new to us all. I once remember the days of nothing. It was a time of blur, and blandness to the atmosphere. The rain’s puddles were the epitome of gloom and partial melancholy. By then, the space beside me, that once used to be crowded, began to construct an open lane of air to flow through. However, I still kept walking. What engaged me? The same thing was also happening to everyone else: less. It was less of everything and everyone. It was still gut-wrenching knowing that the world that was once controlled by others, became our responsibility. Once they leave, we become. I once remember the days of fear. It was a time similar to the emergencies of the world, and constant crises. The cries of all the living trees and plants turned into a disturbing laughter. It was the center of a blooming universe, with the privilege of life being unpredictable. The tomorrows that we will forget and the yesterdays we could remember, depends on our future’s ability. The sun sets itself into the earth’s nose, and dies. As I sit here, remembering, the birth of a young foal happens, and the death of elders bloom. I understand now that we cannot idolize anything that must come our way, but remember the times we didn’t have control. The time of innocence, staring into a deep space, questioning our forever. Now grown up, the time of guilt, staring into a deep space, questioning our forever. I once remember those days, and you could as well.
