My oyster
I am lucky enough to have choices. A lot of them. I have many, many choices and I can choose between all of them. It is a privilege and I am very thankful, but also very scared. Even though I should not complain, all I wish for is an already laid out path for me to walk along until it ends. Yet my life is a vast and endless field.
Actually, it is more like a meadow. Emerald green and made out of soft, fresh grass, speckled with beautiful multi-coloured flowers and four-leaf clover. The sky above it is blue, the sun shines bright and warm high above, and yet I tremble at the thought of treading it. There I stand, ready to take a leap out onto what should be a never-ending story of excitement and joy; yet I hesitate. What I see before me is a battlefield, scorching hot under my feet and hidden under the ground are hundreds, no, thousands of lethal mines, ready to explode at any given minute. I cannot go out there. I am certain it will hurt me, and chances are it will kill me, or even worse: I might survive.
I am hurt by an explosion yet to be set off. I am drowning in a stream that is yet to be swum. I am poisoned by the apple I am yet to taste.
Not every flower I pick will be without thorns. Not every day will be sunny and bright, and not always will the grass be crisp and green. However, not every step I take will burn my feet, nor will it trigger fire and powder. My path is not set out for me, I am in the making of it, and if I would ever choose to look behind me, I will see how it has all lead up to this very place. I do not want it to continue along in the safe shading of the trees anymore, I want it to lead me straight out into the terrifying, but equally exciting nothingness, and make it into something.