THE DAY IMAGINATION DIED

Corey wrote this for her 11th grade AP English class. I thought it was pretty powerful insight from a child's perspective.

                  MIKE & COREY 1999

 

 

      When you’re a child, you’re invincible and on top of the world. The lines between childhood and maturity, reality, imagination, even good and bad, seem to blur. Then things get serious, for some sooner than others. I was lucky enough to be smart and loving by nature, but I was cursed with responsibility and forced maturity at the age of five. Unfamiliar rooms became all too familiar. Friend’s houses became like my own and the owners became my extended family. My one year old sister and my eight year old brother became my closest friends while my mom was a visitor and my dad became a stranger. Unfortunately, I understood, just not enough. Even the flu was a terrifying ordeal in my mind. The thought of sickness brought depression. Hiding my sadness and my tears, I was brave. I held my head high as an example to my siblings. My fears only known by my pillow; my life became a game of hiding. Hiding emotions; hiding from people; hiding from my problems; it never ended. Imagination died that day. I buried it the day cancer buried my Dad.