The Lost Worlds

(This was a piece originally published for the University of Melbourne’s People of Colour magazine, Myriad 2018. Check it out here.)

Ignorance is bliss – well yes, it was. You were someone who didn’t know about the ways of the world at all. You sat at home in your own little world and didn’t let anything but the sun and the rain touch your thoughts. At least, when you could help it. You would write all day and dream all night and eat when food was given to you. You could be safe, even when you took your helmet off. 

That world is just another one of your lost worlds. Thinking about it now, you realise that there are places that you’ve lost that never even cross your mind. And that is dangerous.

I have travelled through many worlds. Almost all of them existed on the same intricate marble, and each one had something new and exciting to offer. I’ve seen the dark balconies and the opal caves under the waterfall; I’ve met the travellers escaping the bloodshed and the fighters with a cause. There were dolls and notebooks and safety pins and stories. So many stories. The forests held the key, and the fires led the way.

And what did all the worlds have in common? Only the fact that I lost every one.

When you lose a world, it shifts away from the front and centre. Sometimes you walk out, but often you are dragged away kicking and screaming. The secrets are spiked into your chest and stay lodged there until you pull them out yourself and look at them in the light. Cry over them, if you want to. The broken branches will never again be part of a tree.

And now? Now, we are all in the new world. It is colder than the one before. Where once there were bridges you keep finding walls, and every charmer wears chain mail armour. Maybe you should find some too. Or perhaps not. With every attack your soft skin will grow harder. Eventually you will find that nothing can touch your thoughts at all. 

Is that where you would like to be?

Be wary of losing worlds. Accept that they will go beyond your reach, but remember them when they are gone. They were a part of you, once.

Perhaps it is colder in the new world, but you will learn to find the warmth in your own blood. You will use your newfound sight and pick apart all the thorns that brush against you. I hope you’ll be ready for the battles ahead, but sometimes it’s better when you’re not. Fight on your feet. Take the lessons and stuff them into your pockets. By the end of the path, you will brush off your torn clothes and throw down your medals. Look around; maybe you aren’t alone here. Don’t be afraid to let them see the splinters from your broken secrets. Because even in the silence, you will learn how to win.

Ignorance was bliss. But what you will gain in the new world will be better.

[Image: trees in Sri Lanka on a dark evening. Source: Dani Relbyn. Used with permission.]