Child

From these moments...

Sparkling water under a setting sun bathed the world.

Like all of our immortalized memories, it was nothing short of perfect. 

Generic some might say.

Nestled comfortably in the maze that is the human mind, sat a memory. Of course, trying to reenact such memories would only lead to heavy sighs and depressing thoughts of impending doom--aging--so I set out to relive it within my decaying mind but not in the physical, which is much less burdening.

But let us return to the matter at hand, the colors of a wide world on full display for a creature such as a human child is quite awe-inspiring.

“This world is wide—"

Resounded a familiar voice.

"—So wide it can swallow you up whole and spit you right out. Even then, nobody would ever even know who you were." Also said the familiar voice.

The waves, full of life, swallowed my small feet and tugged on my fragile body pulling me to the great beyond. 

"Just like that."

The familiar voice said with a chuckle.

The sun smiled cheerfully as well, its warmth patting the unblemished and soft skin forming my face, legs, and arms.

The water waved underfoot.

"Pretty," I exclaimed with a high pitch.

This of course was the most recent word I had learned from the massive amounts of media I consumed. Even now I am unsure if I had said it sincerely or because I saw that on TV this was the general expression made by those looking at such a view. I hope it was genuine, at least that's what I've wanted my personal statements to reflect. But none of that matters does it? Whether a seven-year-old actually found the lazing sunset on some beach "pretty." 

I suppose only to the individual it does. For now, believing that memory is "pretty" for some reason is all I want, and all I need. 

Lonely, it is.

A familiar chuckle and annoying head rub ensued, and with it, the memory slowly blurred until it was no longer within the confines of my mind.

Quite extraordinary these things we call "memories" are. So piercing and vibrant, yet so dead and distant.

I suppose this draft will make due for now. Yes, my longing for the past has seemed to subside and my drowsiness overcomes me.

Rest well,