My Life: 400 Words

The Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, and the leprechauns were easy to let go of—I wasn’t more than 8 or 9 when I realized that they didn’t really exist. That was okay—I could deal. But Santa was harder. Each year I would begin to doubt as my Jewish friends asked “do you really believe in Santa Claus?” But every year my faith would be reaffirmed when my sisters and I found huge presents, extravagant presents, presents my parents swore they would never buy us in the living room on Christmas morning. I was only when I saw the link to an order form for one of my presents in my internet’s history that I was forced to face facts. There was no Santa. I was 12 or 13, then.

I waited anxiously for my Hogwarts letter the year my grade turned 11. Then, since I am one of the youngest in my class, I waited another year. No letter. I had never truly thought there was a Hogwarts or that I was a witch—still, some small part of me had been genuinely hoping for it. My friends pretended to be crushed that their letters never came—I was as dramatic as any of them, but I actually was crushed.

The TV show I had been following for the past several months became extremely dark in the 3rd season—everyone’s lives seemed to be falling apart as the main characters were abused by invaders and each other. Marriages were falling apart—my favorite character was showing the early signs of insanity. I felt slightly depressed for weeks, spending hours on weekdays trying to work out how the season could be resolved. “You know it’s not real, right?” Asked my sister. “Don’t take it so seriously.”

I think there is a line somewhere. I don’t believe in the Yeti, or the Loch Ness Monster. I don’t even really believe in ghosts—I’m not superstitious.


This is what I have so far-- I'm still trying to figure out how to finish it and if Ishould try a different direction.