I would like to say I’ve grown.
They say that moving away from home is one of the biggest steps in growing up.
Fairy tales are all about that. It starts with the main character who is either banished from the court for using a higher brain percentage; either forced to go and marry some egocentric and relatively stupid sole heir to a throne oooor if the situation permits sufficient stupidity/need of affirmation/some sort of crazy spirit of adventure/masochism… he leaves by free will. For most of us it’s the last one that rings the bingo bell.
Just like in fairy tales the destination is somewhere far, far away. Though these days it really depends what type and how many horses you use. Personally I prefer the plane – fluffy clouds, brownies for desert and funny flight attendants with stupid smiles on their faces – what’s not to like.
Sometimes we even get the initiation trip. That’s a kind off version where your horse is slow and doesn’t use his wings and you face all sorts of weird people and activities on the way. Don’t get me wrong 200km/h were fine by me but I’ve seen some seriously messed up things on the way to Birmingham. It was fun and unique and I wouldn’t change it for the world (Thanks).
After seven countries and seven seas(geography was never my strong point) and endless silent “are we there yet” you finally get to see the castle or an orange triangle with five letters under, or even better a nice traffic sign telling you you’re on the wrong side of the road!! …
Most stories end here with the completion of the trip, gain of the strongly desired position and the departure of the ones that helped you on the way … and everyone lives happily ever after. Well this is where the similarity ends. You climb up to your highest room of the tallest tower (it’s just the 3rd floor, I know, but it will do for the purposes of the story) and the excitement is gone, the story is lived, the goal achieved. You don’t feel complete. You don’t feel relieved. You don’t feel like you’re on top of a mountain. You realise it was just a hill (told you I’m not good at geography).
After the first wave of euphoria comes denial and her merry friends, then shock and acceptance, fear and anger, a good hangover (not necessarily from drinking though that would have been nice) and you start climbing again, you change the fairy tale or… well update to a movie series and move on.
There’s no happily ever after, no advisable life frame, no straight good and bad axis, no path. You only have a list of vague goals and endless options.
Some days are better than others. Sometimes there’s enough energy and determination to believe that there IS a path, that you DO HAVE the right notions of good and bad and that you ARE GOING towards happier times. And you climb … until you can’t see a path anymore, lose yourself or simply decide it’s time to call your hill a mountain. Considering how stubborn some people are I could say:
“We’re on the road again…, sing with me Shrek”
I would like to say I’ve grown… but I’ve just written a whole page of fairy tale parallels and you don’t need to be a geography genius to know parallel means that two entities “never” meet.
P.S. 1 Martie fericit :)