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Not Letting Go

My heart cried today. It wasn't a prolonged experience, an expression of grief or a reaction to any external stimuli. It all happened in less than three seconds at most, and yet it seemed my entire life flashed by.
Somehow, something inside me looked at the things around me and decided not to accept any of it. For those three seconds, I wanted my childhood back. It wasn't a wistful nostalgia, but an absolute belief that if I hung on tight enough, I would be back when times were simpler.
Back when the playgrounds weren't so child-proof. Where the slides were made of smooth marble, the see-saws made of solid wood, and where our toes sifted the soft sand underneath. Instead of the ugly spongy material upon which all playgrounds are built on nowadays.
My parents would be sitting a distance away. Young. Figuring life out for themselves just as I am right now.
Somehow, I'm still not letting go. Maybe if I wished hard enough.
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