At the age of 17 I am still afraid of the dark. I believe that ghosts live in my closet and that zombies sit outside my window waiting to attack. I hide under the covers every night as images pop into my brain of skeletons lying across the floor. I believe that hiding under the covers will save me. I close my eyes and think of a magic spell to shield me. I whisper over and over “Its not real, Its not real,” until eventually the images fade away. I believe that this has kept me alive through the sleepless nights.
Magic is real. It is not just the wand waving from Harry Potter or the creatures from Lord of the Rings. It is something that lies within each person. When I was young I thought that fairies lived in the trees. So I would go outside and make little houses for them. I left food for them to eat and a bed for them to sleep in. The fairies never seemed to take my gifts, but I didn’t stop leaving them.
Each little boy and girl goes to bed on Christmas Eve waiting for presents from Santa Clause. Their eyes light up when they jump out of bed and run to stare in awe at the scene in their living room. Santa doesn’t leave me presents any more. But I know that he is real. He is not a person, or a tangible being. He is that sparkle in the kids eyes on Christmas morning.
As you grow older it is harder to believe in magic. Why is that? Is it because society has rejected the ideas of magic for thousands of years? Or is it because you stop believing? Or maybe a bit of both? This is one reason why growing up was hard for me. I never wanted to leave behind the world of fantasy, because it makes the world feel a little more special, a little safer.
As I have gone through my teenage years I have locked myself in my room reading stories of pirates and dragons. Inside my fortress, or as my mother calls it my bed, I have dreamed up countless adventures with knights and princesses. To me growing up is accepting that these things only exist in my head. Yet I never have to stop believing. But there is always a dark side. Refusing to believe in magic also means refusing to deny the existence of monsters. Its all or nothing. It is easier to completely dismiss magic and get rid of the nightmares. But I prefer to keep fighting. Magic is something I believe in. And I carry it around with me every day, just in case I need it to protect myself from those monsters that hide in the dark.