Tiny Boy, Vast World

And so, begins the journey of the god who shall be known as Aexande...

I have always wanted a clean slate. The blank page. The empty stage. The fresh canvas on which I get to create whatever I want. There’s something beautiful and yet, terrifying about starting anew. Beautiful, because you realize how much can be done – the endless possibilities of your future. Yet, you tremble at the thought of the same endless possibilities that entice you. One moment I feel like Daedalus, a man long imprisoned by his own creation – now giddy with elation at his newfound freedom. With the whispers of endless possibilities coming from the soaring wind beneath my wings, I was drunk with the power of my own potential. The next moment, my euphoria was replaced by a sense of apprehension. Looking out into the vast expense of this new world, its sheer size and complexity seemed to mock my smallness. A knot of fear begins to form in my chest. The weight of the world – of all the choices I could make and all the paths I could take- begin to bore down on me, threatening to crush me under its weight. What path am I to follow? I am lost in a boundless world that is both thrilling and terrifying.

My aching for a fresh slate is a result of a burning desire to be exceptional. And I was – exceptional - but it was never enough for me. In the words of the great Eminem “Why be a king, when you can be a god?”. There was always this feeling of me leaving more on the table. My fears kept me from going for it – going for more. Like the Greek chorus of doubt, “Don’t be like Icarus, dear boy” they whispered to me “do not fly too close to the sun, for you will turn to ashes.” And just like a god who dreads his believer’s losing faith in him, my fears kept reminding me that I’d never make it. I am tiny boy in a boundless world, and some things are just not meant for me.

And for a long time, I believed them. I allowed myself to fantasize about the things I could do, but deep down I knew the truth – they are just fairytales meant to distract me from what I was running from.

My fear of failure, of never being good enough became so ingrained that it felt like a part of my identity. Convincing myself to stay small, keep my dreams and ambitions tucked away in that little corner no one can get to. But you see, the thing about dreams and ambitions is that they never stay tucked away. They will push and shove until either one of you dies. Showing up like a persistent itch that just won’t go away until you scratch it.

So, I told myself “Wait for the clean slate. Wait for that fresh page so you can take the pen and start writing”. But the truth is – there is no clean slate. The world cannot simply allow you to start afresh because then you’d be too powerful. Here I am, facing my fresh page for the past couple of months and there was nothing for me to write. The sense of freedom was exhilarating of course, it was borderline intoxicating. But the fears? The ones that refuse to stay on the old page? Their imprints are already on the first page, creating smudges that are taunting me to dare to create something new.

And yet, here I lie – writing the first page in spite of the smudges. Here I am building my wings to fly to the sun even though I am certain to come crashing back to the ground. Here I am, not just taking a path, but creating mine. Looking my fears in the eyes and daring them to do their worse.

Here I am, stepping into the vast and boundless world, a tiny boy – knowing that at the end of it all – this world will be mine.