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Remember when they told you that you could be anything you ever wanted when you grew up? Your innocent eyes were clouded from the visions of flying to the moon, saving the city as your cape flew behind you victoriously in the wind, and of saving lives on the operating table. At the age of six, you had all the hope, creativity, and self assurance, with no experience and the world was wide, as wide as the school bus everyone used to ride together, as wide as the space from one monkey bar to the next that you would swing freely from without a care who was watching, in fact you hoped and prayed someone would commend such strength and bravery. It was as wide as the lines on the paper you learned to write the alphabet on, as wide as your eyes on Christmas morning. Somewhere over the course of time though, for some reason, the lines on your paper became much closer together, leaving you far less room for mistakes, and the only thing clouding your eyes now was the lack of sleep from the night before which you spent glaring at computer screens and textbooks under a florescent light bulb. Being noticed was not something to be desired anymore, but something you avoided, in fear someone might think your performance is weak, that you might make a mistake. While the lines were getting smaller, the pressure to be perfect grew greater, and the desire to take chances didn't fit college ruled notebook paper, or between the margins of Microsoft Word, and was cropped out of the space between them. Suddenly self loathing and uncertainty flood your mind, and your confidence drowns in the process. "How can I ever go to law school, I can barely even pass calculus? I can't be a doctor, I bombed the SAT, I can't be a teacher, I can't even teach myself to learn the material. "The doubt keeps filling in the empty spaces of your heart that once were intended to fill with adventure, and clogged cracks in your soul where hope used to flow freely, just like the river where you used to make mud pies. Memories of the days we rode the bus together as equals, replaced by the vehicles we drive alone; class separated us before first period even began. At what moment did the last drop of creativity we had drip from our tired eyes, as we were scrambling to memorize words in the decrepit pages of a textbook we'd forget as soon as if not before the second we finished the exam? Was it the same moment we decided we weren't good enough to live up to your six year old self's expectations? And how many hours of television did it take for us to start discriminating and using micro aggressions to mock and allow hate speech to creep its way into our conversations? I've been searching through the boxes, rummaging through the worksheets, papers, halfway colored pictures, and old report cards, for the day I traded in my super hero cape for a blnket of conformity but all I found was nostalgia. I spend my days chasing down the six year old inside of me, so I can reacquaint myself with my retired energy and dreams. I see glimpses of people through her crystal clear lenses, and have the fearlessness and confidence to climb across the monkey bars, yelling at the whole world to watch me succeed. Isn't it ironic how as we grow older and gain knowledge, education, and experience, we become less and less confident in our ability to succeed, yet a six year old that still writes their name backwards is more sure of themself than a neurosurgeon? This world beats us down, and eventually we just stop getting up and settle for wallowing in disappointment on the ground, making excuses to and for yourself for why you won't stand up today, but maybe tomorrow instead, or next week works a little better actually. When things get rough we look for ways over and under the muck, but the only productive option is to but your rain boots, close your eyes, cover your mouth on and trudge through the sludge of knee deep disappointment and uncertainty until you reach the other side. Just don't forget to stop for a second and make a mud pie, so that you can offer a piece to occupy the mouths of the critics along the way. It's time to recess this journey of perfection, and color outside the lines, or even better yet, paint your own damn picture. :)