Words of a teenage escapist.

I miss the days when my sister and I would sit down and have kdrama marathons, with bowls of ramyun perched on our laps and bottles of Coke sitting idly on the coffee table. I miss the days when we would blast Super Junior songs in the living room and everyone else would complain but no one bothered to stop the music. I miss the days when my bedroom walls were littered with posters of anime characters and Winnie the Pooh and the Teletubbies. I miss the days when the easiest thing to do was smile and the hardest thing to do was getting out of my brother's strong grasp whenever he tickled me until I was breathless and begging for mercy. I miss the days when I would run around with my dog chasing the sunlight. I miss the days when everyone I loved was still in close proximity or just a phone call away. I miss the days when the struggle wasn't real. I miss the days when I didn't care so much about grades but still got decent marks on my card. I miss the days when the only thing I was completely sure about wanting to do when I grow up was to write. I miss the days when I wasn't so scared about the thing I wanted to do most. I miss the days when I didn't know the meaning of nostalgia and so I merely classified the ache in my chest as something fleeting and temporary. Boy, was I wrong. So young and so naive and so wrong. But also so right. So right in all the wrong ways and so wrong in all the right ways. It felt all right to be wrong. Everything felt all right. I was all right.

This morning, I stumbled upon one of my old writing notebooks dating back to 2007, when I was eleven and filled to the brim with nothing but laughter and easygoing conversations, and I found a page entitled, "HAPPY TO BE ME!!!" and it contained a list of all the things in my life that made me happy and reasons why I was happy to be me.

I miss the days when I didn't write so much about the pain... because there was no pain.