The Push

“The Push”

         Like buoyant silver threads anticipating the course of your youthful life, innocence is its own spectrum of possibilities limited by what experiences have been thrust upon you. The deep desire of curiosity and the boundaries it deems fit to stand by are what shapes the course of these innocent threads, until the day when one looks beyond the silver horizon and emits an intense light of reality which casts its radiant beams across the new space your life is now able to explore.

         It starts with a push, it always does. The day in December when Dad thrusts you on your own two wheels out into the backyard, when your friend cries in front of you for the very first time, begging for a comforting word, and when that addictive figure tempts what you’ve not yet decided and shows you what his perceptions are.

         Sometimes that push is not always appreciated. Sometimes the benefits the enforcer sees are merely detrimental to you. And for some things, there’s no way to reverse the push. The Push is a permanent tattoo onto the soul, regardless of the opportunities it may seem to reveal. After The Push has inflicted itself upon your heart all possibilities of experiences unmarred by it are lost. The Push is not as liberating as it seems. Rather, it is just a way to limit oneself in a particular direction favoured by the Enforcer.

         Some souls are better left without fingerprints. Those who believe their way is the supreme and utterly correct way—and who can blame them? It seems the majority agree—are no less arrogant than those who expect the same conditions to affect all individuals the same way. Personality is a dimension we have not yet conquered. Who are we to judge what is beneficial for (i)this(/i) unique soul?

         But none can deny the overwhelming waves of emotion experienced when a little strand of innocence is pulled away. From that one strand spreads forth thousands of frays, each as intricate and unique to the ones beside. When a chunk of thread is yanked apart the explosion of fibres intensifies all previous felt emotions: from excitement to betrayal, from elation to depression.

         Both innocence and corruption are magnifiers for feelings.

         Standing in the realm between virginal ignorance and corrupted experience, my innocence is hanging by a thread.