A portrait.
My childhood memories are just blurs. I don't remember everything in specific details. Btu when I was 8 years olds, I was happy. That much I remember. I still remember my first day of school, like a vivid dream. I was so excited and anxious. I didn't worry about how I looked, and how much I weighed, I didn't care about being really loud or about my social skills. Impressing people was on the bottom of my list. I was genuinely happy. I never walked, I constantly danced around the house, sprinting my way to school and skipping all the way home. Everything exited me and aroused my curiosity. I used to bring my mom a flower everyday. I sang whenever I could, I painted all the time and I always hanged my simple drawings on the walls of my room with pride and an immense sense of satisfaction, they weren't near good, but I couldn't care less. Then I turned 16, I don't remember how it happened, sometimes it feels like I've leaped into this age. ...