Each day, without a shred of doubt in our minds, we continue to believe that our lives get busier, engulfed in an exasperating cloud of stress. We fondly remember simpler times; times in which we did not worry. āIgnorance is blissā, we say. At these moments I look back and wish for a time machineāto recall that serendipitous feeling: the feeling of innocence. When I was three years old, I received a gift from my grandfather: a plump, square, green and white striped pillow. Not able to pronounce many words, I dubbed it āGreen Okeeā. I carried Green Okee with me wherever I went; my childhood innocence protected me from feelings of embarrassment and humiliation. I would nestle my face into the soft crevices of the plush for the comfort of having an item to remind me of home. As I grew older and more mature, I started leaving Green Okee at home. Sleepless nights of rushing through assignments and frantically studying for exams taught me the cruel reality of the world, finding happiness in the things that I do is not as easy as it was before. The complex nature of social interactions left me anxious and worried about what to say or do in my day to day activities. But I always had Green Okee. Like a ritual, every day I would come home and greet Green Okee with a hug. It was not just a simple bond to an item, it was a connection to the past, back to my roots, back to the simpler times. This pillow was the instrument to the release of tension in my life. Three years ago, when my grandfather died, I was crushed. Along with memories of playful conversation and intense card games to cherish, the now flattened, worn out pillow was all I had left. In my teen years, however, my innocence had grown into naivete, and my ignorance into desire. In an attempt to illustrate my maturity to my family members, I threw away Green Okee. This decision haunts me every single day, like nostalgic rubble after an earthquake. It was not just a pillow that I threw away, it was my childhood.
Try 2
I revisited this to write it again for a university class. Thought I didnāt do the idea justice last time.
I was three years old when my grandfather bestowed upon me a gift that would soon become a constant companionāa plump, square pillow with green and white stripes. Unable to articulate complex words, I affectionately named it āGreen Okeeā, and it never left my side.
As I grew older and the weight of responsibility settled upon my shoulders, I began to leave Green Okee behind. I was constantly racing through assignments and drowning in the stress of exams. The complexities of social interactions bred anxiety, leaving me perpetually on edge, questioning every word and action in my daily life. But through it all, I knew I could come back to Green Okee.
Like a ritual, I would return home at the end of each day, greeting Green Okee with a tight hug. It had become more than just a simple connection to an inanimate object; it was a lifeline to the past, a tether to my roots and the simpler times that now seemed like distant dreams. In its comforting presence, tension melted away, and a sense of tranquility washed over me.
Six years ago, my world shattered with the passing of my beloved grandfather. Memories of lively conversations and intense card games flooded my mind, intertwined with the image of a now flattened and worn-out Green Okee. It became a relic of the past, a tangible link to a time when things were simpler.
However, as I entered my teenage years, innocence gave way to naivety, and desire eclipsed my ignorance. Driven by a misguided desire to showcase my maturity to my family, I discarded Green Okee. In that one moment of misguided confidence, I unknowingly severed the ties to my childhood.
What I cast aside was not merely a pillow but a treasured relic that held the essence of my youth. It symbolized the carefree days and the unfettered joy that had gradually slipped away. In its absence, I was left adrift in a sea of complexity, yearning for the simplicity and unadulterated happiness that were now forever lost.
The discarded pillow serves as a reminder of the irreversible passage of time, a reminder that the pursuit of maturity can sometimes come at the cost of cherished memories and the innocence we so desperately cling to. And so, I carry the weight of my actions as a reminder that I must strive to preserve the fragments of my childhood that remain, cherishing them as precious treasures in the midst of lifeās ceaseless demands. Maybe Peter Pan was right.
Revision 1
I was three years old when my grandfather bestowed upon me a gift that would soon become a constant companionāa plump, square pillow adorned with green and white stripes. Unable to articulate complex words, I affectionately named it āGreen Okee.ā From the moment it came into my possession, Green Okee became my trusted confidant, providing solace and shielding me from the complex world that was waiting for me.
No matter where I ventured, Green Okee would faithfully accompany me. Its soft crevices offered respite as I nestled my face into its comforting embrace, providing a tangible reminder of the warmth and security of home. In those early years, when the world was still a mysterious and enchanting place, innocence was my shield against the harsh realities that awaited.
As I grew older and the weight of responsibility settled upon my shoulders, I began to leave Green Okee behind. Nights were no longer spent in blissful slumber but rather in a haze of sleeplessness, racing through assignments and drowning in the stress of exams. The complexities of social interactions bred anxiety, leaving me perpetually on edge, questioning every word and action in my daily life. But through it all, I knew I could come back to Green Okee.
Like a ritual, I would return home at the end of each day, embracing Green Okee with a tight hug. It had become more than just a simple connection to an inanimate object; it was a lifeline to the past, a tether to my roots and the simpler times that now seemed like distant dreams. In its comforting presence, tension melted away, and a sense of tranquility washed over me.
Six years ago, my world shattered with the passing of my beloved grandfather. Memories of lively conversations and intense card games flooded my mind, intertwined with the image of a now flattened and worn-out Green Okee. He was wise. Maybe he wanted to give me something to remember him by. Or maybe he was just fond of giving gifts. Regardless, Green Okee became a relic of the past, a tangible link to a time when things were simpler.
However, as I entered my teenage years, innocence gave way to naivety, and desire eclipsed my ignorance. Driven by a misguided desire to showcase my maturity to my family, I made a fateful decisionāI discarded Green Okee. In that one moment of misguided confidence, I unknowingly severed the ties to my childhood, and the consequences of that choice continue to haunt me to this day.
What I cast aside was not merely a pillow but a treasured relic that held the essence of my youth. It symbolized the carefree days and the unfettered joy that had gradually slipped away. In its absence, I was left adrift in a sea of complexity, yearning for the simplicity and unadulterated happiness that were now forever lost.
Regret now fills my heart as I grapple with the weight of that decision. The discarded pillow serves as a poignant reminder of the irreversible passage of time, a reminder that the pursuit of maturity can sometimes come at the cost of cherished memories and the innocence we so desperately cling to. And so, I carry the weight of my actions, forever haunted by the nostalgic rubble left in the wake of my misguided attempt to grow up too soonāa reminder that I must strive to preserve the fragments of my childhood that remain, cherishing them as precious treasures in the midst of lifeās ceaseless demands. Maybe Peter Pan was right.