I remember being in third grade, trying to clean away the flecks of sunlight falling on my school desk because I thought it was dust. I remember my teacher misunderstanding my ignorance and accusing me of letting my attention dance away from the class in pursuit of trying to catch the slippery, non- glittery light in my tiny little hands and then her retributing me to correct the immature behaviour I made as an eight-year-old that I was. I remember going "Oh my god, is this what I thought to be dust actually, light from the old man sun?", I remember coming back home that day, thinking how things I believe are bad could actually, be really good if I looked a little more in the distance. I remember thinking if sunlight can look like dust, everything is so possible under the sun. I remember living like that until I was fifteen or sixteen, I remember transferring to a different school at fifteen, meeting new people and abandoning everything I thought was real. I remember them telling me, "This is not possible and, that isn't either", I remember the possibility for everything impossible and I remember that there are limitations in this world. Both memories so vivid in my head yet, my muscles choose to memorize only the latter. It's like the physical impossibilities of having a large body extends to all that belongs to my philosophical. The limitations I didn't know as a third grader or as a thirteen-year-old, I now do as an eighteen-year-old and Oh Lord, I hate it so much, I hate it so much when it feels like I won't be able to make with living one more day possibly a part of everything real and, it also hurts to hurt the third grade me who wanted to experience everything about life under the light of the sun - the looks of which, she had only just learned.
