Childhood

I'm sorting through boxes of my things that I have stored away from my pre-college years right now. It feels like I'm invading on the privacy of a different person.

I hold in my hands the most precious possessions of a younger version of myself. Stickers, stamps, subway transfers--things that are completely meaningless to me now. I fear that my adult-self is polluting the innocence of my childhood.

There's something sacred about childhood--and I can't quite put my finger on it. The dreams are brighter, the goals higher, the motives simpler. Perhaps it is that innocence that I want to protect from a world of darkness.