Wings.

I am only a fledgling. A freshly feathered, brightly painted young creature, ready to defeat the world, and thinking that such is possible only by the wings I have been hastily awarded. This is too new for comfort; I keep stealing looks over my shoulder, expecting somebody to stop me before I edge too far away from the nest, to tell me that it’s safer inside, and come back before you catch your death. With graduation out of Adolescence came a sudden disregard from those around me; as if tearing away from home is the inevitable; as if severing the arteries that pulsed from the heart of my existence has been long expected, almost awaited. No familiar hands hold me away from the white glow of the exit sign, no limbs strain against my relentless drive forward; the only force I feel is the tug of gravity, pulling me across the surface of the globe and planting me to the ground simultaneously. My security lies in my own power, my destination, and the resolve to get there.  I am only now discovering that independence is getting entirely what you pay for. It is not so much the freedom to make your own decisions as it is learning to deal with those decisions, farther down the track. It is making mistakes (because there will always be mistakes to make), and learning to pay for them with your own dignity and reputation. It is throwing yourself into the deep end of uncharted waters, and facing the demons that may reside, because there is simply no other way forward.  It is anticipating the solution to the storm that threatens explosion in times of pressure, rather than leaning on the abilities and answers of others.

I am only a fledgling, testing these wings for size, wrought with fear and excitement for the winds I will surely fly on across the earth. Survival, I have realised, will not depend on my attempts to avoid danger; rather, it will come down to my ability to keep breathing, despite the fact it will be waiting for me at any given moment in time.