Fish Tacos and Detective Conan
Because I wasn't picky, and I liked them too. And I had the time to watch them--I had the time for a lot when I was younger.
But I was so lazy back then. I had the time to indulge, to invest in a talent or hobby. But I didn't. And that was totally acceptable. I didn't have to do much. I just took photos for my mom--who had been starting her photography career--and then--that's the end of my obligations. I could do virtually whatever I wanted.
I took it all for granted.
During those days, I would wake up in the morning and have breakfast. A bowl of Dora the Explorer cereal, or ramen noodles, sometimes. If my sister cooked, she always made tacos. Hard shell, tilapia seasoned with cajun seasoning, and that's all.
Fish tacos were my favorite breakfast for a short period of time.
After breakfast, I would go off somewhere. I didn't have to think, just do. If my mom was sleeping, I would use her computer. If my brothers let me, I'd use theirs. I'd spend hours on it playing dress up games, or Nancy Drew. Sometimes I'd play Skyrim, or Lego Star Wars--and when Roblox came out, trust and believe, my brother and I dominated. But my favorite was The Sims. I loved it. Creating countless families—reflecting both the perfect and the chaotic worlds I dreamed of and lived in.
Sigh.
I’d design and decorate the homes, captivated by aesthetics more than gameplay, at least until I was older and realized how each decision led to more than just a fling with Mortimer Goth or a sibling rivalry. After that realization, I started dabbling with the complexities of life. But when I was unaware, when I was more naive, it was all about the beauty and perfection that could be fabricated, even if reality was far from it.
Because it literally did not matter. Not to me. In those days, I was simply a kid, free from worries and responsibilities. My routine was straightforward: eat, sleep, play games, repeat. Add watching anime, making dirt and stick tacos outside, or playing with my dolls, and it completed my carefree existence.
But then the darker days came. It was no longer okay to sleep anytime I wished or sit idly. I had responsibilities, needed to socialize, and schoolwork became more demanding. I got my first C, I wasn't able to focus in school, and I was always tired. I wasn't a cute child anymore, either. I was ugly, and I had gained weight. And that ruined what could have been my modeling career--so I was no longer a help to my mother, and everyone at school had to witness that transition. From a cute little girl who comes to school in cute dresses, handmade bows, and custom jewelry--to a fat, unattractive girl with short, thin hair, and her brothers joggers on. Because when I stopped modeling, I stopped receiving free items. And mom couldn't afford to buy much.
I was just a procrastinator who had no hobbies, no skills, and no importance. But still, I wish I could go back. Go back to make changes. Go back to become a different person. A better person.
I just want a change, that's all.
