Pull the trigger without hesitation to take aim at this paradoxical world.

Ignition of January

The Moment of Joy

Will you seize the moment, or will the moment seize you?

“You will become a hero.”

It is my destiny, it is my birthright, it is what I deserve simply for being here and being now. All the stories that have been spoken, all of the tales I have been told, leads to only one recourse for me: to be above and beyond all others as their savior. I want to to have their faith instilled in me, I want to have the weight of their worlds on my shoulders. I can do it all, I can handle anything and everything, it is my duty, and in my duty, I am infallible.

“You will never become anybody.”

Reality comes crashing down, and I lay with my face scuffed across the granite grounding. I have failed yet again, and my old wounds overlaced with the new. Time and time again I try, yet the results always stay the same: I falter. As I lay here mangled, my tears infuse with the blood from my battered body. The clear streams of sorrow mix with the maroon flooding of wounds as my vision continues to blur. There are only three certainties in life, death, taxes, and this fate. I will never change, for it was I who was never chosen to become a hero.

“Somehow, someday, I will become somebody.”

I blink, and find myself crouching with one knee planted firmly in the ground. Before me lays the me of yesterday. He still lays defeated, wallowing in anguish and the futility of it all. But here I kneel as a slightly order version of he. I turn my palms upwards to see what they have become, and though bruised and battered, show signs of resilience. Courage, perseverance, the primal desire to keep going on and on. I keep going, not knowing where the end destination lies yet. I keep going, because I know there is something waiting for me to get there.

“Someday, I will become someone to somebody.”

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn to face its owner. It is me once more, but with an older and gentler smile. I blink, and suddenly I become he. The bruises and batters of yesterday are still present along my hand, and while most wounds have healed, some very well have not. In this tearing of flesh, somewhere the line was drawn. The stretching of limits was still here, but only faintly. Risks were now riskier than before, because now there was more than myself at stake. I had people to take care of, people that look up to me, people that depend on me. I still falter, but I fail knowing that these others will always be there to catch and support me. In the sorrow I agonized in alone, I found one more truth: the journey is best with others, not in isolation and solitude.

“Today, I make the first step towards tomorrow.”

Time moves fast and slow. The me of yesteryear and the me of yesterday slowly disappear, and I find myself in a hall of mirrors as deep as the eye could perceive. But these mirrors are not identical, they don’t even show my reflection. What these mirrors show instead are the persons I was, the persons I can be, and the persons I will never become. It is a testament to the last truth, that life will change, whether we are ready or not. In our desire to be stable, we realize that stability is boring. Stability is safe, which is the riskiest action of all: to be inflexible in the wake of the uncontrollable. It is here I stand and here I lament: my yesteryear only dreamed of tomorrow, wishing to get to here and now without appreciating the journey along the way. Tomorrow finally became today, and the first and last truths make themselves eerily present: death is inevitable, and change so much more. My body decays one second per second as I linger in uncertainty, and I found myself crushed under the sudden realization that I have so much more to do. I remember the me of yesterday, not sure of where he was going, but always throttling forwards, and discovering new horizons he could never dream of. I feel myself getting excited once more, realizing the journey has yet to be over. With one refreshing breath, I glance around at the labyrinth of mirrors scattered before me. The choice was here, so what do I choose?

And without a second thought, I took the first step, today.

“Will you seize the moment, or will the moment seize you?”

This was a weekly crossover post between Sandbox Zero and the Altspace VR Writing Group.

Sandbox Zero’s Weekly Theme was Truth and Legacy.

  • What is truth?
  • Can truth be personal?
  • If it is, how does this affect the idea of justice, of science?
  • What tells you who you are?
  • What tells you what your truth is?
  • What is legacy, how do you create one? Do you need one - why or why not?

ASVR Writing Group’s Weekly Homework Prompt was The Moment of Joy.

edge-of-eclipse one-shots

Dialogue & Discussion