Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
A/N: With season three slowly approaching, I thought I'd finally submit a drabble of Avatar fanfiction. I'm not sure what spurred this into being... It might have been the fact that I was watching CoD not two hours ago. Whatever the reason, here it is. I hope you enjoy it.
At twelve years old, most children see what they want to see. For the world is too big and too harsh and too real for them to handle.
At twelve years old, Aang saw death. And to him, the world seemed too cramped and too merciless and too heavy for him to carry; but he had accepted reality long ago.
At the still young age of fourteen, most girls are too busy flirting with the boys in their village and trying their best to become a wife worthy of a nobleman.
At the age of fourteen (not so young anymore), Katara was busy with things of her own. The avatar's knees were starting to give out, so she had to help him keep the earth on its axis, becoming a mother so soon, too soon for her to deal with. But she grit her teeth and persevered, all while trying her best to become a waterbender worthy of a master's title.
At fifteen – the very brink of manhood – most young men try to woo the village beauty, playing the silly games of teenage courtship.
At fifteen, Sokka had long since been a man. He had experienced great loss of two loves in his life, and was uncertain if the woman he wanted was still waiting for him – or if she was even alive. His plan to defeat the Fire Nation was in action; his father's fleet was currently going up against Fire Navy ships…
And Sokka had no time for games.
At the now-grown age of seventeen, most men are too busy off fighting in the war, joking and laughing with friends before battle, but silently wondering if they'll ever see their loved ones again.
At the age of seventeen (more a boy than a man), Zuko was busy watching the battles from the sidelines. He had no room for laughter; no room for friendship. But he would silently wonder if this was the life he had fought for after all.
At twelve years old, most children see what they want to see. For the world is too bright and too cruel and too frightening for them to handle.
At twelve years old, Toph saw nothing. The word 'bright' was meaningless to her, but 'cruel' and 'frightening', she had felt. Quickening pulse, shallow breath, trembling hands. But she had accepted these facts about the world long ago.
For these were young men and women (children) who grew up too fast and too soon, in a time where childhood was just another casualty of war.