office photocopier
I was special. At least i thought I was, back when I was barely as tall as my dad’s waist. so full of energy, but most importantly so full of personality. i used to tell my friends that my favourite midnight snack was rice topped with cheese slices, best served with a floral cutlery and eaten with a fork. always eating meat as a main course believing it would train my baby canine teeth to be strong for when i become a fully recognised vampire. felt like i was the coolest in class for mastering all My Little Pony songs by heart.
It’s interesting how a child’s mind works. the amount of creativity and imagination bottled up in there is exhilarating. being an adult was an absolute fantasy. one minute i was dreaming to become a successful architect, marine biologist the next, only to shift again onto saving people as a firefighter. i couldn’t wait to experience all the grown-up things my parents kept from me. “wait until you’re older,” they always told me. i was impatient and i wanted to be out of my parents’ hold as soon as possible. but now remembering all this as a legal-aged young adult, oh if only i could turn back time.
I was special, until i wasn’t. as more and more of that childhood innocence disperse, the fog blocking my view of the world began to clear and i can finally see it for what it actually is: a heap of shit.
As i grew older, i found myself doing the same exact routine. i get up late, spend the entirety of the day juggling between works, sleeping dangerously close to the time my alarm is supposed to ring— and repeat. that’s it. a hasty but continuous schedule that reminds me a lot of a particular object i used to fancy back in my mom’s office, the photocopy machine. every time i walked past the receptionist’s table i found it running its rusty engine in the corner, printing the exact same formatted papers as yesterday. through the eyes of a first-grader, it was entirely rocket science. little did i know my own life would turn to have the same fate.
Now i’m no longer that vampire wannabe eating sliced cheese at midnight anymore. who am i, really? was i even special? it is agonisingly scary to deal with the fact that i am merely just a dust speck in the big, big universe. it also scares me how i am losing all sense of individuality, how stoic my life has come. i miss the days when my biggest problem was not being able to purchase a mini plastic kitchen set for my stuffed animals. now i’ve grown so accustomed to the world “problem” i grew numb to it.
but alas, life works in mysterious ways. sometimes i still walk into the kitchen and have that sense of NOSTALGIA rushing through me from all the memories i’ve made making paprika soup out of leftover dinner ingredients. it reminds me that my inner child hasn’t died down, it’s simply suppressed deep inside. who knows? maybe soon i’ll find the drive to not just be a speck in the universe. to tell myself, “hey! you were—and still is—special.” to not let my fate be the same as that rusting photocopier on the corner of the office. when that time comes, then i’ll be able to break loose from the restraints of my own schedule and be as visionary as i was back then. and to you who may relate to this, i hope the same for you! :)