The Child Inside

“One day, I want to be a teacher. How about you, what do you want?”

“I want to write more stories, and sing on a stage in front of everybody.”

“Are there anything else?”

“I want to draw comics like Emily Caroll and Gavin Aung Thang. I want to dance, bake a cake, edit images, direct videos, and short films.”

Silence.

“I want to, but I can’t anymore.”

“Who says so? You are telling your kids that they can, but why can’t you?”

“Simple as there is no time.”

“Then make one.”

“You say that because YOU are a kid, and you know nothing but childish things.”

“Are dreams childish?”

“No.”

Silence.

“Then why don’t you write novels about how you teach?”

“I am a romance novel writer.”

“Isn’t teaching romance?”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

“I am a KID.”

“Stop it. I am doing something.”

“Why don’t you sing to them?”

“I write love songs.”

“Draw comics as visual aids?”

“That’s tedious.”

“Dance in front of them?”

“That’s silly.”

“Print pictures and direct videos to show them?”

“Too expensive.”

“I guess adults really love reasoning.”

Silence.

“Then why did you become a teacher?”

“Because it was nice to inspire.”

“How can you inspire someone when you are not inspired yourself?”

“I thought it was easy, but it’s not.”

“Don’t you find inspiration in your kids?”

Silence.

“I thought it was fun being an adult.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re free and you have money and I can buy all the barbies that I want.”

“When you grow up, you would not like to buy barbies anymore.”

“Why? That can’t be!”

“Yes, that can be. I was once a kid too.”

“Then, you must have been filled with dreams and happiness too, haven’t you?”

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