4-7-
Innocence. The world was perfect. My parents were perfect. There was no such thing as a bad person.
Everyone was nice. No one started drama, no one smoked, did drugs, had sex, drank. You didn't have to worry about guys or what your peers thought about you. Not about what your hair looked like or your makeup or clothes.
Everything was a ten (I could never rate any book I read, movie I watched under a ten/ten... haha) The world was full of candy and nice people.
The worst part of the day was naptime (oh, what I wouldn't give for nap time now or to be that full of energy...)
no tears except over a scraped knee or your mom closing the book she was reading to you. Oompa was there.
I trusted everyone.
I didn't know what it felt like to get in trouble (in second grade, my teacher got frustrated with me. I felt like a failure. I was so embarrassed. I didn't tell my parents. It was a big deal. But it wasn't.)
The world wasn't full of rapists and mass murderers. It was small. My parents. My teachers. My classmates who were all my friends.
My grandparents seemed like forever away. They were perfect. They spoiled me. Getting to pick out a bag of chips or them bringing home donuts was such a big treat.
No pressure to be thin, to fit in.
You could be friends with boys without being looked at as a slut or a lesbian.
You could hold hands with no strings attached.
You could run, jump, dance, shout.
You didn't know the meaning of the words "homicide", "homophobe", "hate".
No social barriers. You could talk to anyone. No cliques.
It wasn't uncool to hold your dad's hand in public (I still do)
It was the best thing in the world when your mom painted your nails.
You thought your plastic beauty and the beast ring was the classiest jewelry you would ever own. Your beat up teddy bear was the best friend you would ever have.
You could wear dresses to school just to twirl around in them.
You didn't have to color inside the lines.
You were friends with everyone, and everyone was your friend.
No staying up until 3 in the morning doing an English essay that you didn't care about.
No deciding your whole life when you're too young to even know what you want out of it. Just deciding what game to play- chutes and ladders or candyland.
You took baths and played with toys in the tub.
You took naps.
You played outside.
You shared a room with your brother and whispered secrets deep into the night (or so it seemed- maybe just until 8:30)
You made up games.
No one judged you. You didn't judge anyone.
The world made sense.
/looooooong post
Edit: wow, that looks like it'll be really hard to read... lemme try and fix it
