To be a princess

was my dream in my child hood. All the drawings from age 4 to 6, which my mom’d kept, were all about the princesses with lacy dresses. Some princesses accompanied a prince, and some even had a servant, always named "Peter." One thing in common with all the drawings was, needless to say, the princess with such variety of dresses. Even in the graduation drawing book from my kindergarten, "what do you want to be, when you become a grown-up?" there the princess was again, while others were more realistic, like "a policeman," "a doctor," "a florist," and so forth. Practical reasons free dream. This was not because I was pretty like the princess. I was far from the "prettiness" in what a girl or a princess was about. I was fully aware of my ugliness, thanks to a mirror. My eyes are not big, my nose was almost buried in my face and my body was out of the proportion: My head was just huge, compared to my skinny body. On tope of that, as I was sick a lot, my mom shaved my hair (not cut, but SHAVED!!) I absolutely looked like a monkey. Not only did I look like a boy, but also I was the top of a tomboy always hanging out with boys outside and made them cry even. There was no "fear," or "hesitation,” in my dictionary. Up until when I faced reality of the bitter world, I’d kept a wish in my heart for a slight chance that a miracle might happen one day. “I will be the princess with big eyes and nose, wearing a beautiful dress in a castle, when I am getting older!” I love myself in those times when I was once fully myself. Even though I was like the monkey, I was shining like the Sun, I was free like the wind, and I was light like a butterfly. I don’t remember every single detail, but I do remember feeling of those times. Like a golden light. The world where a dream means really a dream and there was no “must,” or “should.” The place where I go back, when I feel down.