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When I was 9, I imagined what it would be like if it turns out that I'm a wizard. I can make things I want easily, do things I want, and the best part is, I can help Harry to kill Voldemort. But of course, nothing happened every time I get mad, or sad. I want to read some spell and the next thing I know is, all the people that make me unhappy will just disappear for a moment and they'll return when I feel better.
Then, when I was 15, I imagined what it feels like to know that I'm actually a princess. Wearing nice and branded clothes all the time, having a closet like Mia Termopholis, going to a crowning ball, do something good for my country (and it'll turn out they love me) oh that would be a dream that comes true. Showing all the people that make me unhappy that I could just tell my servants to kidnapped you, but I didn't because I'm just a better person than you all are. But then again, I'm not a princess.
Yes I know those things won't come true. But at least I could dream about it, right? But what would you think if now I'm telling you that I'm still waiting for a letter from Hogwarts saying that I'm a wizard? Or if I'm telling you that I know actually, I'm a princess, but my Grandma just hasn't find the right time to tell me? Will you think I'm crazy? Well yeah, I know you will. Because no matter what, I'm not a little kid anymore whose dreams can be as impossible as Justin Bieber is actually a king of all dragons. I'm not supposed to have that kind of dream. That's one more reason why I miss my childhood.
