Clipped Wings

As we grow older, the world begins to lose some of the magic we once loved. Sometimes, it's good to hold on to those childhood dreams.

I still remember those stories that adults used to tell me when I was child. They told me about heroes, and miracles, and happy endings that only existed for a select few. They told me of brave souls who go through hardships and come out on top, to get everything that they ever dreamed of, even if they never knew that they wanted it. I remember those stories. I remember the heroes that were just like me. The nerdy kid who wanted the girl, the dreamer who never stopped chasing his goal, the warrior fighting for what he believed was right, the weird kid who learned to fit in even when no one else wanted him to. I believed in those stories, they gave me wings, and with those wings I could soar just as high as anyone else.

 

When a kid gets older, the world tries to separate him from his wings, clipping off the very dreams that once held them afloat. We are grounded to the earth and told that everything that we once knew as children was fantasy: A fabrication of the world that does not exist. And with that knowledge, we are shackled to the chains of fate, our childhood forcibly removed. We fall in love only to have our hearts broken, we bravely venture out into the world just be told that the goal before our eyes is impossible. The schools give us tests that determine how intelligent we are, the churches call us sinners because we are not perfect enough. Those weird kids stay weird kids, society works to silence the warrior's blade. Society becomes our keeper, becomes of motivation. Society tells us who we are, and who we should become, and by the time we reach sixteen, we are all but clawing out our own feathers in an attempt to follow a fad. It is then, that we forget just how easily we could once fly. We all went through that. I did. The world, once a place where anything could happen becomes a place in which we merely exist. We are doomed to become our parents, doomed to become a part of chain. When all we have left is to cling to a hero to come and save the day, we are told that such people do not exist.

 

Well, I still believe in heroes. I still believe in the power of a miracle, I still idealize the warrior willing to risk it all on a gamble. I still believe in that weird little kid, because that kid is me. If heroes do not exist, I will be my own hero and save myself, if miracles do not happen, I'll create my opportunities. Somehow, some way, I managed to cling to a single feather that I once thought was lost. Although I can't fly now, I'm willing to re-learn how. I still believe in a fantasy world that does not exist, and with that belief, I'll paint my world in a new light.

 

I will be my own hero. I will not let them clip my wings. I will not let anyone tell me that I can't fly.