A Universe Trapped in a Labyrinth

This is my boring and interesting and teenager life spanning from age 15 to 18 (May 2015-August 2018)
Within you'll find many re-inventions of myself, boy trouble, school trouble and life trouble. (Plus interesting bits I thought I would include as well).
Do you dare to enter the maze?


56. Paper birds of one syllables.


Date: Thursday 9th July 2015

Entry: 60/?

Subject: Paper birds of one syllables.

Dear W.E,


It is four letters; one syllable and is an expectation of something to come. Its synonyms; dream, aim, plan, wish and trust all have one syllable too. Yet it is enough to scare away fear and sorrow, ignite a path forward in life and burn away the cobwebs trapping us.

I have many hopes in life.

Some which I don’t know will happen because the future isn’t solidified – it is shaped by decisions, made up out of now’s.

I hope to not be trapped in a controlling world and hunkered down with a predefined fate, like Billy in ‘A Kestrel for a Knave’.

I hope not to let go of all morality and humility when left with not a hand to guide (when I step out into the cracked earth known as the daunting future of adulthood), like Jack in ‘Lord of the Flies’.

You could ask me where I think I will be in ten years or twenty. I will reply that I don’t know. Because I certainly don’t. You could ask me where I think my heart will be in the future. I will reply with a quirk to my lips “whole and in my chest”. You may laugh or smile at my logic and that makes me smile too. But I hope to still have my kind heart that is willing to leap up to the plate and help those who are in need.

I hope that I make myself and my loved ones proud.

I hope that I leave a mark on the people I love but not on the world because screw the world, not everybody will like your decisions and your thoughts.

I hope that I am confident and comfortable in my skin one day.

I hope that I still treasure the small things and the big things.

 I hope that I will qualify as the challenger and the victor in my life.

I hope that I live. My blood still pumps, my dreams still rise in ambition, my friend and family around me, my worries still flying although not too high to be blinded and burned by the sun.

My head is all full of these paper birds. Maybe when I surpass a thousand I will be granted a wish; a wish I don’t yet know how to answer.

What are your hopes, your paper birds and one syllables?


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