Sometimes I miss the "good old days". But the memories are somewhat distant and strange - like paintings from someone else's life. It's like looking at a stranger's story, but actually looking at my own.
I have moments in which I nostalgically remember the time when I was a child with a pure and naive soul, and I was blessed with ignorance. When I smiled broadly to my ears, curious and enthusiastic about the world around me. When I enjoyed everything. When I believed in miracles.
But these times now seem so distant and veiled in some obscure mist. And sometimes I want to be that girl with bright eyes, with a pure soul filled with pink dreams and blessed with ignorance.
I smile honestly to my naive desire. No, I will never be that girl anymore. And I have not been to her for a long time. But I know that I am now donated with an invaluable gift - the power of experience that appeared in an ironic smile and the wisdom of the time that stole the glow in my eyes. Now I know I am blessed with the power of knowledge.
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