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August 29, 2011
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One of my earliest memories is of when I first poured for myself a glass of milk. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but until that point, one of my parents had always done it for me. However, they had stepped out for a moment, and I was in the mood for a drink. I lifted the jug up onto the counter and fetched a glass, and at that point inspiration struck.

What would happen if I kept pouring? I had trusted my all-knowing parents without question my entire life, at least up until that fateful day, when I had an idea that was truly my own. I was going to infinity.

I raised the jug and poured, and within moments I was testing my grand idea. Half-full, I could barely contain my excitement. Nearing the rim, I had nearly chickened out; this was where my parents always stopped, should I do like them? No, I would see my idea through to the bitter end. The liquid flowed over the top of its small container, only this and nothing more. I cleaned the spill, and, with me as its only witness, the incident was all but forgotten.

This memory from my early childhood as stayed with me as one of my greatest influences, and I hope to never forget it. It has helped shape me and my views, and the underlying principles forming my impressionable mind. I wouldn't allow myself to become that small glass, overflowing with only the smallest helpings. I was going to infinity.
A short vignette I wrote some while ago, heavily inspired by An American Childhood.
:iconderse-dreamers:
derse-dreamers Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2013
THIS IS JUST ABOUT POURING MILK PLEASE CALM DOWN
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