- How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
Maybe I should start off this post by saying ‘hi!’. It’s been a while since I’ve written on this blog. Mostly because there has been a lot going on lately and I honestly haven’t been giving myself the opportunity to write in a long while.
For this question, I imagine myself waking up from a coma and forgetting everything about my previous self. Possibly a Maze Runner situation where I only remember my name and have no other possible references for me to locate my age. In such a scenario, what age would I then immediately revert to …
My immediate answer – and I don’t know why I know this answer so well at the back of my mind – is twelve. I would think of myself as twelve. And take note that when I say twelve, I don’t think of myself becoming child-like. If anything, I actually think that I was a lot more mature and level-headed when I was twelve than I am now. Whenever I think of any huge life decisions and whether I am comfortable with choosing which step to take in my life, I always look back to my twelve-year-old self for advice. It was before life decisions got hazy.
So who was she?
My twelve-year-old self was reading a lot of books. She would read two books a week from the school library. She was very well-read. She cared about her friends a lot. She was kind and even if she didn’t like someone, she wouldn’t mind partnering with them in a school project, just so that her other friends didn’t have to. She knew she could be nice to both of them.
She was still a budding artist. She drew above-average sketches. She wrote at an above-average level. She was smart yet still modest and quiet and content with the world around her. She wanted to be a writer. She wanted to win a Nobel prize.
She was the characters in all of her books. She was Alanna of Trebond, Violet Baudelaire, and Hermione Granger.
She had an imagination. Honestly, a frightening one. But one that I would immediately want to revert back to as opposed to the one I have now. She saw multiple universes converging in the world around her. She can be in a classroom paying attention to the teacher yet at the same time listening to the fairies outside the door beckoning her to come and play. She could be walking to school yet at the same time imagining the goddesses hiding among the passing trees.
She was also still optimistic – before the world grew dark and too real. She had yet to be bullied.
She was my last autosave before I stepped into the real world.
So if I were to ever forget my age – or forget myself as a whole – I feel like it would not be a choice of preference, it would not be a want but a need, that I turn back to my twelve-year-old self. Because she was safe.
Even today, her voice is still in my head making so many of my decisions for me. Somehow she is my anchor that guides me to become the person I’ve always wanted to be.
Till next time,