May 12, 2011 - Age 10

I could feel the wind rush past my skin as my feet took control. The brush scratched and grabbed at my legs but I couldn’t stop. I turned back to see the silhouette of a child chasing me. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, gasping for breath. I had to stop, but if I did they would catch me. I soon found the solution to my problem as my body fell to the dirt and muck of the forest floor. I turned to see if they were still there. The child’s shadow was soon above me. As we approached a small clearing I could see them better. They bent down with a proud smirk on their faces. The child tapped me on the shoulder and yelled in a childish tone, “TAG! YOU’RE IT LUNA!” I groaned and proceeded to help myself up. “You could’ve been a little less creepy you know,” I muttered. He chuckled, “Well anyways, your mum was calling you.” I nodded and started back to our street.

I lay hopelessly on my bed. I frowned to myself. Due to my ‘bad behavior’ and the fact that I came home way past curfew, I got myself grounded...Grounded...The word echoed in my head. Something about that word didn’t seem right to me. I couldn’t seem to put my finger on it though. I sighed and went back to being hopeless. My head moved to the cat-shaped clock on my cotton candy colored wall. Seconds turned into minutes into hours, into days and-it-just-goes-on-forever-till-there’s-no-more- A flick to the head broke me out of my trance. I looked up at a tall and slender figure. My brother eyed me with his brown pools. His eyes trailed back down to my dirtied dress. “What happened to you?” His voice was gentle.

I sat up and twiddled with my fingers for a minute before answering, “I fell... playing-”

“Playing?” he questioned. “Proper girls don’t,” he paused, and with a look of disgust managed to utter out,“‘play.’”

I knew he was right. Other girls never played and always talked about boys they “fancied”. I, on the other hand, would much rather play and be free in the wild. But chains held me down. They kept me from being myself. I sighed. “Yes, George. I’m sorry.” I managed to compose myself enough to reply. I was not sorry. I was not sorry one bit. I wished that our rules didn’t exist. Rules were the worst thing to ever be invented. Our rules were even worse than normal rules. The stated that girls always had to be proper and wear dresses and stuff. I quickly got rid of those bad thoughts, knowing what would happen to me if I told people I thought like that. My brother looked me up and down once more before leaving me in my lonely room.