"Onism: the awareness of how little of the world you'll experience"

Onism

When I was little, I asked my mother, I said to her "What will I be when I am older? Will I be like you? Pretty?".

I remember that day, there was a storm brewing, I was losing hope that the day would let me go outside once more. The trees gushed and seemed to loosen in their roots. What hope did I have of being beautiful if not even the flowers in the ground could hold onto their petals?

As I waited for my mothers reply, the window seemed almost foggy, I was disconnected with the outside world, here I was dawned with a red woollen blanket, while the birds outside huddled for warmth by the rattling clothes line. Why did the outside world reflect in my self doubt, I felt completely disconnected, so why did it seem to hold me back?

I heard my mothers voice call out from the kitchen, I could smell the roast from the beaten-up leather couch where I lay, fetal position, "Honey, you mustn't try to be pretty, I didn't birth you to be pretty, I birthed you because that is a part of my cycle of life - you mustn't be selfish with your life."

At the time I had simply curled up and pouted under the woolen blanket, the words stinging just a little.

Now as the moons pass I ponder on those words, and am closer to grasping them. I was never going to please everyone with my prettiness, and in that case, I will never experience the whole of the world. Prettiness is an add on to my life, something that is most of the time irrelevant and useful only when it doesn't count.

The storm from that day came again early this morning, but my onism has been beaten black and blue by selflessness.

305 words.