Someone once told me a story, and it sounded like a fairy tale. Here, listen...

So I've heard people ask the question, would your five-year-old self be proud of the person you are today?


This question very much intrigues me. For some, I suppose, it may be easy to think back to their younger age and remember their hopes, dreams, ambitions, likes, dislikes and so on from when they were only half a decade old. That isn't the case for me, which is why I'm so interested in this question.


I can barely remember what I wanted in life as a five-year-old, even if I think really hard. I do remember telling people I wanted to be a pianist, but I knew then and I still know now that that wasn't really what I wanted back then, so it doesn't count. So... How should I know if my younger self would feel any pride at knowing what she's become?


My current self isn't that proud of who she is, but she's different to my younger self. She's more open minded, accepting and out-going; a world of difference to the quiet, insecure and shy child I used to be. Would that child like me?


If I really sit back and think about it, though, I reckon that were my child-self to see me, she would be disgusted. She would think, what a strange girl, why does she do her face like that, her hair like that and dress like that...? and turn to our mother with her nose in the air saying I'd never look like that, mommy. She would be slightly interested but mostly horrified at the colorful eyeliners I use, flamboyant hair styles I choose and my admittedly odd fashion sense (in comparison to other people my age).


She'd probably think I had a mental problem because I want to dye my hair unnatural shades and turn away in terror at the singers and music I adore.


But I know that a part of her would feel extremely curious, too. I wish I could somehow find out. Step inside a time machine and travel back to that summer when I was just five-and-a-half years old and running around dressed in a long die-dye skirt, blue tee with a row of three white flowers on the chest and nearly-waist-length hair glittering in the sun.


I would walk over and say hi, I'm Alice. I've missed you (because I miss being a carefree child, my how I miss it) and watch as her eyes grow big as saucers. I imagine she would think that one of her daydreams came true; finally, something interesting and unusual was happening to her. Or would she think something else...? Would she be terrified of a stranger who didn't exactly look completely normal in her innocent eyes?


Would she recognize me? I was a dreamer, as a child. I always believed that one day I would be the protagonist of a thrilling narrative, a spellbinding story that would inspire millions.


Go ahead, laugh. I'm laughing. Pathetic dreams, huh? Somewhere along the road of growing up I got a dose of reality: I'm not that special. Now if I saw a stranger with colored hair, contacts and eye-catching make-up I wouldn't bat an eyelid. If she told me that she was my older self, I'd laugh and say those kinds of things are impossible - but that little girl belonging to a lonely summer inside of me would long to believe her. Is that the opposite of what my child-self would be like?


Would she believe my current self and talk to me (or run from me) whilst a tiny part of her whispered don't be so silly, those kinds of things are impossible?


But most importantly... Say I got her to believe me. Say she agreed to talk, to get to know me, to hear me out. What would she think? Would she be proud of me?


Would she be happy to hear I'm passionate about art, about literature, about music rather than math, science and English? Would she like the Japanese (and occasionally Korean, although not often) songs that play loudly as I run and stretch to their beat at the gym, or would she cringe and ask why would you listen to a song whose lyrics you don't understand and then not believe me when I tell her I'm studying the language?


Would she sympathize with my love life? Would she be shocked and angry that I made friends over the internet, somewhere she was always told isn't a safe place to give your name out to people?


What would she think of my ambitions? Ambitions that don't sound like I want to be a doctor or I want to be an artist but more I want to make people happy and I want to fly.


Would she call such ambitions childish? Flying is childish, in most people's eyes, but they think of the literal meaning. A human growing wings and taking off with a push from the ground. It would be amazing to feel the wind on your face thousands of miles up in the air of course, but there are other ways to fly.


Books, letters, words can take to places you couldn't even imagine in your dreams. Paintings, sketches, mere brushstrokes can bring tears to your eyes, freedom to your mind, curiosity to your bored, tired brain. Songs can break your heart and mend it again within the space of four minutes. Think of it that way...


Think that you can fly without wings; you can fly higher than the sky itself and dance among the burning lights of the galaxies above you whilst your feet are firmly on the floor, snug in their attire.


Would my younger self think of that as childish? Or would she simply call me a pathetic dreamer and tell me to get a job - and a life, whilst I'm at it?


I wish I knew. I wish I could find out. I wish I weren't so afraid of failure, of disappointing those I love and of being dull and unimaginative.


And I wish I could fly.