The Pieces of My Life

An exhibition is going on in a museum. It is about a girl who tries to achieve something. They collected so many objects about this girl but it is not certain if they will collect more or they will collect nothing in the future. Let me introduce you to this girl. This girl is me.

As an emotional person, tears are with me. These tears are not because of the sadness. They are because of the memories. The memories that are hidden in these objects. Now, it is time to explore these magical objects. The first thing that I see is hamsters. Toy hamsters. There are so many hamsters with different jobs. Musician hamster, doctor hamster, surfer hamster, postman hamster…  Once upon a time they were only enjoyable toys for me. But as a person who is growing up, they made me recognize that people can be various. Now they symbolize humans, not hamsters.

I continue to look around at the pieces that created me. There is a rind of watermelon over here. The watermelon was eaten by a girl. On a hot summer, a girl ate this watermelon with a smile. She was eating it with delightedness. I learned how can be satisfied with very little things from this girl. Because she taught me that little things create enormous feelings of happiness.

Now I am looking for a notebook with full pages. These pages consist of random letters and the names of the owner of this notebook. They make me remember the times that I was trying to learn the alphabet before school. My mom had enough of my questions. I really don’t know if I’ve lost this curious girl or not. But I know she lost some of her curiosities.

I see a bottle of perfume. It is empty. Although it is empty, it is full of loyalty to the people. The ex-teacher of the girl left this bottle to her when they were leaving because of passing secondary school.  I wish I’d never grown up but anyway I grow up.

I see another notebook but now this one is black. This is a notebook that belongs to an adolescent girl. Not an innocent child. She crammed in all of her toxic relationships into this notebook. Also, the tears that were wasted because of worthless people were there. She was not that mature to forgive these people. Maybe they taught her real life. But anyway her heart is still broken.

After observing the objects of my life I see an empty place. And I promise myself to fill it as much as I can. The child was living with so many dreams and she deserved to say herself successful. Now I have to make her proud of herself.


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