In 2003, when I was in grade seven, I got my first Harry Potter book. Needless to say, life changed from that point. To say that I was completely immersed in the story would be an understatement. I can't even begin to put into words what those days were like. I could not put the book down. All my day would be either reading the book or thinking about it. It had such an impact that at that time, to me, real life started feeling artificial, my heart and mind lived inside the magical world of wizardry. I would think about the story, imagine the characters going on about their lives, imagine me myself being beside the characters, in their world. Reality started feeling unreal. I would go to school and talk to my my friends about it the whole time, we would wait eagerly for the books and the movies. It was a feeling beyond words, nothing short of magic. Those years were the happiest times of my life. It was like living in euphoria.
Years have passed since the last book, the last movie came out. I've re-read the books, re-watched the movies countless times. But something has happened, something is not quite right. I don't feel those prolonged periods of childhood awe anymore, I don't make up elaborate scenarios in my mind. Not anymore. I do get concessional jolts of familiar nostalgia from time to time, even they do not last more than mere moments. A quick blink, to the world that once was. And it makes me realize what a precious part I've lost. Has the burden of growing up really made me this cold and pathetic? Did my quest for emotional independence somehow rendered my ability to be awed blunt? I don't know. But realizing this has disheartened me a lot. The magic is lost. The childish awe is gone. Chances are I may never get it back, and moments like these are crippling. It makes me want to cry out loud.....
Oh things I'd give just to feel the magic again.....
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Artwork by Mary Grandpre
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Artwork by Vladislav Pantic
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| "never tickle a sleeping dragon" |
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