Personal Narrative: Field Of Innocence

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Do you remember being a child? Stealing crayons was a crime and liking someone was scandalous. Bad guys were differentiated from the good guys by the color and type of clothes they wore. As mean as they were, children were innocent. They were completely disconnected from the outside world of taxes, politics, and the economy.
Most kids wander away from their field of innocence, curious about the pastures beyond. Once adolescence sets in, the gates back to childhood close and we can never go back. However, most of us don’t notice this transition since it is so gradual.
Most of us.
Imagine this so-called “field of innocence.” Now put a lake in the middle, its murky waters hiding the dangers beneath. A child walks past the water, oblivious
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This was my family. That is, until my father got more business trips and my mother’s behavior got stranger.
I guess you know what they say: “You’ll never miss something until it’s gone.”
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“Sit down. I have to talk to you.”
My mother’s face was so apologetic that it scared me. Had she forgotten our argument already? It’s only been a few days since our little spat. Though life carried on, I wasn’t sure if she had forgiven me yet.
I sat down warily. I had that gut feeling I always have when something bad was about to happen.
“There’s something you should know, and I think you’re old enough to hear it.”
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I stared at my ceiling, analyzing what I had heard. My mind refused to make sense of it, to put everything into place. I did everything I could to help the denial process. This isn’t happening, right?
Wrong.
I sighed and allowed myself to think the thought I’ve avoided for
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Until now.
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I had prepared myself to hate my father. After all, he caused the pain and confusion within our family. It was his fault.
I did not expect my own reaction when he came back from his business trip. I didn’t realized how much I missed him. I forgot about everything. He was my father, and I loved him.
But he was the criminal.
Little kids think that it’s stupid not to know who the bad guy is because their clothes obviously differentiate them from everyone else.
I wish it was that easy.
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It’s been years since my laundry tantrum and I still remember everything with perfect clarity. I’ve picked up some skills and gotten used to some things since then. I knew whether my father and mother talked about work or infidelity by my mother’s mood. I can tell when someone is lying whilst weaving lies through my own teeth. I’m accustomed to hating my father when he is gone and forgetting everything when he is home. As much as I wish I could ignore everything and go back to that childhood innocence, I can’t.
I’ve learned that the world simply cannot stop and rewind for me. It keeps turning and life goes on.
When life throws a lemon at you, throw it back and yell, “Screw you!” and keep on walking as if nothing

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