Fragile

Young Adult Old Soul magic realism writing Agata Wierzbicka
Art by: Agata Wierzbicka

I may be mistaken, but I think that the next part of my journey will be to set myself up for pain.

Because the pain carves the way for something deeper. It makes you fall apart at 2 a.m., strips away your layers, leaves you naked and shivering. And it is in this state, where everything else has been taken from you that you find yourself. The parts of you that you hid away so well you forgot about them. The tenderness, the undiluted emotion. The raw material that logic has not been applied to, that insecurities have not yet marred. Your emotions before they are dissolved in decency and the learned behaviour of: “I shouldn’t think that.”. Something true. So true that you had to hide it from the world for fear of it being plundered.

At this point, when the world is looking for your weakness, you join in the search and say: “I’ll help.”

Because you cannot have a fragile heart in a world this tough. You do not need a heart that flinches at the mere mention of pain. So you go against every learned reflex, every survival instinct and coping mechanism that has helped you throughout the years. You rise from the fetal position, square your shoulders, lift your gaze and look Life right in the eye. And when every last cell in your body is getting ready to fight, you surrender.

Aching and tender. Vulnerable.

“Do what you want,” You say “and I’ll do my best to survive.”

Because the aim in Life is not to remain unhurt. It is not to live and age on the same patch of earth, unchanged. Life is a metamorphosis. Just think, we are clay after all, how disappointing would it be if we never moulded ourselves into anything? And it is under pressure, as we are spun around that we gain shape. Otherwise, we are just a potential something. Otherwise, we are only could-be’s and maybes that will never live to see the world truly, as much as we are able.

 

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