When I was a little kid, I used to play hard, being one with the soil and the grass, getting joy at the little things, embracing the cuts and the injuries, smiling after I lost a match having no regret for it and tossed over the days to wait for another chance to live through the same time again.

What happened to me?

When I was a little kid, I brought in friends at my home, relishing at the fruit squash that my mom made along with them, laughed at the silliest jokes, played around the house and in the backyard, competing over the hand held video game, frowning at the weather for being too sarcastic and went home, tired yet satisfied to our full.

What happened to me?

When I was a little kid, I hovered around the confectioneries to get a chocolate or two from my mom, feeling the joy of sharing with my friends, holding the bat in one hand and a ball in the other, making silly rules of the game, yet enjoyed them, pranks with our friends, finding a coin or a note on the street and sharing it with everybody.

What happened to me?

Yet among all these memories and eventful memoirs, I still grasp with the new and the present, having found peace and solace in the new and rubbing off the old as an eccentric part of our past, transforming emotions into smileys and talks into chats, looking over the shoulder for any interactive life, shutting down the feelings and marrying to the job and losing the subtle way of life for good.

What happened to me?

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