It seems as if just yesterday, the world was a benevolent place. To dream was to realize, and thus there existed no encumbering fear.
Fear is now a living entity.
Fear of good as well as bad. The bad is feared for what it is, and the good is feared for its softening touch, its gentle nudge that knocks over the strongest walls baked by betrayal and other obsidian encounters- leaving the one behind those walls out in the open, vulnerable in her ephemeral respite.
In fact, fear is the plaster of that glorious facade.
As she grew up, awaking from that naive fallacy that anything is possible, the layers of intimidation thickened between bricks and bricks of reasoning.
And now she’s afraid to dream.
She can’t help but envy- envy, not resent- those who woke up way before her, those who understood the limits reality applies to human lives, and perhaps even to sublime forces like those of Moira. She wonders if inside the mammoth edifice of words, ideas and other obscure pursuits of the mind, she has turned Time into her sour enemy. Is it too late now, to conform to the ways of the world? Is it too late to heap one shiny medal onto another, so as to prove her worth?
Has the world shut it’s doors already?
I profoundly differ. I want her to know that much more than realism, it is delusional idealism that points to happiness; and success isn’t a synonymous destination, but a milestone in that direction. I wish she’d understand, through experience, that the only way to see herself for who she is, is by averting her gaze from who she was, certainly not because she was anything execrable, but merely because the past is a very obsolete reference for the definition of self. While everything else falls in perspective when perused through hindsight, imperfections often swell even more in proportion, often eclipsing the impeccable parts as well.
I want her to stop bewailing the loss of her ingenuousness and building all those towering walls around her to cocoon its remnants. I want her to, instead, allow disappointments and failures to anneal her inner virtue into unyielding principles.
Heated, pressed, cut and crystallized- to be a diamond isn’t easy.