I miss when I was a little girl.
My only concern was not to get out of line while painting. For the only thing that I used to cry was about broking my toys, I didn’t used to worry about my appearance I ate wherever I wanted without thinking about my body shape.
If I go out I have to go well dressed or I feel insecure. When I got dirty in mud I used to think it was funny but now it’s all complaining.
The rain was for playing not for crying in silence. The music was to dance, not to cry with it.
Now, everything it’s harder and it gets harder every day. I just wish I was that little girl again; dancing, laughing, smiling… I miss her.
Mandarina