7Growing up is a painful process.
Leaving behind childhood fictions.
Dreams of winged horse’s melt into raindrops amidst the urban jungle that is home.
And the skies over age away castles become overcast and crack, falling down cliff faces and into blood-red oceans.
It hurts to lose your dreams.
To suddenly be without your life predictions.
To realise one day that a box is a box, its role no longer dictated by your imagination.
And that the monsters once told of in storybooks and fairy tales crawl from the pages and creep out of the framework into reality.
It’s scary getting older.
The candy sweet dreams left in the shop.
As a prince upon his stead looks at you sullenly, then silently rides away into fiction.
And the sun drips from your water-coloured image of perfection, adult life springs from the deep and you watch helplessly as your childhood castle crumbles.