It was simpler then.

I remember this one time I was watching Clifford the Big Red Dog while eating graham crackers & coloring in my coloring book.  I was so preoccupied by the show that I accidentally ate a crayon instead of a cracker and I feel like this story pretty much sums up my entire human experience.

As a kid I learned how to ride a bicycle.  It came pretty naturally.  But today I'd like to know who the mechanic is that can take off the training-wheels attached to my life.  I'm afraid that the mechanic has to be me... and that learning how to live without these training-wheels won't come as naturally as it did 11 years ago.

So for now I just keep back-pedaling.

Life was so much simpler when the only responsibilities we had were to keep our Tamagotchis alive.

The only mistakes we made were in the drawings on our Etch-A-Sketches, and even those were easily shaken off and forgotten about.

One day we were doctors, the next we were princes & princesses, and the day after that we were fire fighters or artists or wizards or teachers or super heroes.

Our minds were beautiful; our imaginations endless.

We could be whoever we wanted to be... whenever we wanted to be them.

Back then, "crayon" was the only word I couldn't pronounce, but today there are plenty of things I don't know how to say.

As much as I'd love to take my easy-bake oven to college, or trade in Pokémon cards for my tuition, sadly that's just not the way the world works when you grow up.

Except maybe I'm not so much afraid of growing up as I am afraid of growing out of myself...

The fun-loving, giggling, wish-making, bright-eyed little girl who didn't care how bad she was at something because she believed she was great at it, and that's all that mattered.

She was content with herself and she loved her life.

Today, the moment you point out a single flaw of mine, my confidence crumbles to the ground like it's some kind of Jenga game. 

And I can honestly say that the days I love my life are outnumbered by the days I don't.

I've decided my fear is not that I might grow out of myself.

My fear is that I already have.