“If you have a time machine, what time will you want to go?”
The question haunted me for weeks. For the first time, I’m loss for words, I have no idea, I have no answer. Zip. Nada.
It’s been hours, weeks, I’m still clueless. A blank document fills my eyes, I have a deadline to beat, and my brain cells seem to fail me—I can’t do this.
After tons of times of staring blankly into space, reminiscing past events, musing over history lessons, finally, I found the answer in the most unlikely incident—through Facebook.
“Change your Facebook profile picture to a cartoon from your childhood and invite your friends to do the same. Until Monday (Dec.6) there should be no human faces on facebook, but an invasion of memories. This is for violence against children.”
Come to think of it, now I know when I want to go back. Why look further, why flip the pages of my dusty history books, when I have my own memoirs to hark back to.
But then, my memory fails to function well. I can’t seem to remember my childhood days. All I can see were flashes—vivid pieces of images of my seemingly loss childhood. Very much like a pirated copy of a DVD, parts were skipped off, blurred, deleted.
Blame my bad memory for that. I have a hard time memorizing, remembering. Most of the time, I have trouble recollecting thoughts, lessons. The very reason why I keep a planner and collect sticky-notes—these things keep my mind back on track, keep me updated. Maybe that is why I became a writer, if I can’t remember, then might as well write—to save memories, to go back in just a flip of the page, a click of the mouse.
I miss my childhood days. I miss the careless, childish Khatrina. I miss watching Heidi, Charlotte, Princess Sarah, Powerpuff Girls, Fushigi Yugi, Pokemon, and all the other cartoons I used to love—just laughing, entertaining, not thinking whether it is ethical or not. I miss reading Sweet Valley High, Archie Comics, Goosebumps, Harry Potter, as well as other fairytales and pocket books that used to fill my room—just absorbing, believing that a happy ending exists, even thinking that a knight in shining armor will sweep me off my feet, fight the monsters, and love me for eternity. I miss writing poems and stories—just stringing words together, not thinking if it is sensationalized or not. I miss being passive, submissive to what is happening to the country, not thinking what I may do, not thinking what I may say.
I miss those times when my days were seemingly endless, playing Barbie dolls, Chinese-garter, exchanging stationeries, bonding with my friends, not thinking about politics, deadlines, and all the other things that stresses me now. I miss being with boys, playing Battle Realms, Counter Strike, basketball, billiards, not thinking whether we like each other or not. I miss being with my best girl friends, I miss our shallow fights, and our conversations about our absurd future plans, not talking about things such as love, break-ups, and all the other painful stuff that we are facing now.
If I could go back I time, certainly, the flashback would be through my childhood times—where everything was easy, where everything was platonic. And no, I won’t change anything, I just want to simply go back, even for a day, just to look back, take a peek. This may be the vey much needed vacation that I badly want, plus, a soul-searching ride, too, all rolled into one!