A Story

Once upon a time, there was a young girl. This young girl had an adventurous spirit, and existed in a state of perfect and continuous awe. This awe arose, mostly, from an appreciation for how big the world was--that is, how much bigger it was than her. The girl understood how small in significance and limited in experience she was. This awe did not make her crumble and clam up in fear of what was out there. Instead, it provided fuel for a fire that had smoldered inside her for quite some time. It made her eager to burst out of her restricted bubble of existence. It made her thirst for opportunities to learn, to grow, and to get as far away as possible from the confines of her hometown.

So this girl made plans. She graduated from high school and hit the ground running. She put an ocean between herself and her hometown. She spent two years learning about fascinating things, and meeting people who changed her life. Even before those two years were up, however, she could feel herself getting antsy. She was itching for another adventure, something a little bit scary to get her out of her comfort zone once more. So she made more plans. She put more distance between herself and her hometown. She decided that a stint on the opposite side of the world would do her some good, followed by a year and a half serving as a missionary. After that? She could only guess.


The big world seemed to be at the tips of her fingers, but just barely out of reach. Every day she made plans. Every day she dreamed. She spent hours alone in the library, checking out more books than she could possibly read in the rental period. Bookshelves breathed secrets of unexplored places and maps whispered promises of faraway lands. Languages buzzed through her ears, tempting her to follow them back to their homelands.

This girl was not only adventurous, but highly determined as well. She had plans, and she had methods of sticking to her plans. Several rules helped her stay on track, but the number one rule was this: Don't get hurt--protect yourself. You can't see the world and learn and explore if you are busted up.

This was a good rule, and the girl took fairly reasonable measures to stay safe without sacrificing her adventures. She always wore her seatbelt, even just driving down the street. She always wore her helmet, even though it looked goofy. She used hand-sanitizer after thrift stores and walked in the cross-walk whenever possible. The girl was in perfect health and ready to jet across the world at a moment's notice, if necessary.

Then something unexpected happened. Although she had taken excellent care of her body, the girl found she had accidentally neglected her insides. She could hear herself becoming more acrid, caustic, and even cynical. All of her jokes became biting and bitter, and usually came at the expense of those she loved. Her friends accepted it in stride as part of her sarcastic sense of humor, but the girl felt herself losing control. A gloomy rain cloud appeared over her head and seemed to follow her everywhere she went. The girl had broken her number one rule of protecting herself--something inside of her hurt badly.

So, like any smart and sensible girl (which she was), she set about fixing the situation. She took time for herself. She set more immediate goals. She did volunteer work. She hung out with her grandmother. She went running. She phoned her family. She painted her toenails a fierce and fiery red. After all these healing activities, she re-examined the wound inside her chest. She was hopeful at first, but the pain resurfaced, this time even more intensely. She had not protected her insides, and now she hurt more than ever.

What will become of this girl, our heroine? If red nail polish can't fix things, what can? Stay tuned to find out!

Suggestions for the conclusion are appreciated.