Growing Up

By , Winder, GA
People have come up with countless ideas that represent our life. They’ve invented many views about what it’s life, whether it is in general good or bad, what it depends on or revolves around, what will build it up to the point at which it overflows with greatness, streams out from the single body of one person, touches and influences all who come in contact with them… or what will destroy it, bring it to nothing but crumbling shambles, a dark and twisted mess which, along with its simplicity and its beauty, takes with it the very soul of the person who once possessed it.
People have invented countless analogies in an attempt to explain what this mysterious and great force is. Some I have read, viewed, analyzed, thought on. Many I have not, because until very recently, I never thought so deeply about what life might actually be.
In the view that has formed in my mind – the scattered, playful, innocent, thoughtful, and deep mind of one who is both a writer and a dreamer – when I think about what my life is, at this very moment, I find myself standing on the edge of an immense cliff, or a precipice, or a fissure – any of these is what it may be, because I have no way of knowing for sure. I know only that I stand staring downward, into a pit that is as deep and dark as the depths of my vivid imagination, an infinite distance that has no bounds. The ground on which my feet rest, at this moment, is stable and normal, the things that surround me other than this deep and dark precipice are things I understand, comprehend completely. It is a place where I am content, if maybe not entirely happy, despite a constant restlessness that pulls at my heart and mind. If I could, I would stay upon this ground forever.
And yet, within the depths of my mind, I know that one day I will have no choice but to enter the dark place before me. I may one day decide to risk all that I know and jump, trusting only to pure instinct – or I may end up being pushed, by hands that are soft and gentle or hard and cold. How it actually happens is relatively insignificant, but I know there will come a point in my life when the familiarities and the comforts around me are gone, and I hurtle downwards into an abyss I know nothing of.
The possibilities of what might happen to me are endless. I may just fall, and fall, endlessly, until I find it increasingly difficult to remember my beginning from my end, and just exist in a state of dazed confusion that no one around me detects, not even myself. Or perhaps the fall will come to an end – and this thought terrifies me far more, because this end could be anything. I may fall upon hard rock, crumple in the new experiences that surround me, know no more. I may find myself in turbulent, never-ending waters, that push and shove me from side to side without end, causing me some pain, but primarily confusion. I could even fall upon a soft bed of grass, and lie there for eternity, in a state of complete bliss – although this one I have a tendency to find far more unlikely. Countless other possibilities plague my mind, keep me lying awake at night, throw off my concentration upon schoolwork.
This deep abyss is something I have always been faced with but never truly considered until now… some call it, “Growing up.”





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