Here Be Dragons

One day, you decide to take the lead ropes to your life back. To do that, you need to go up to the top floor of the building that is you. You need to knock, say your name, make friends with your inner dragon, and ask him to share the power. It’s terrifying, but it’s the only way in.

And so you draw a breath and leave, ready to fight with all your little might. Sure, you know that he’s the source of all your strength, but what else do you do on the way up to visit a dragon, but talk to your own reflection in the lift mirror about how you’re the baddest?

But when you get there, surprise! If this is the dark side of you, it’s pretty chill – and what a view! The dragon isn’t scary either. The cookies are in place, and you are ready for your great speech. You tell him how you want to be more like him, how you need him to like you a little bit more, and how you’re ready to work together on the project that is you – but him, too.

Your dragon doesn’t get angry, doesn’t spit flames at you and doesn’t look like he’s in for the fight you predicted. If anything, what follows is a moment of perfect silence that you share, both on the same side, no one trying to split anyone’s head open to decide who rules your world next.

You look at him and see how terrifying and strange and beautiful you could have been, something not everyone knows how to love. You wonder if that’s why they don’t love you, but then you remember you’re not all that yet. You still have to develop his leathery toughness and grow some thorns on your back, like on those hip denim jackets (and on your very own dragon.)

But you gain strength from him with every breath you take, together, quietly, contemplating the city lights from your top floor window. Things seem so sharp and the world seems so fresh and you begin to like who you are, or who you might be. Everything comes in brighter shades, even without having transcended into another dimension, one with more coffee and longer nights and better love.

All it took was coming up to yourself, your whole self. It didn’t even take long. It only took a little courage. Your dragon is the most welcoming. Your heart glows warm and you want to hug him, but he reminds you all the things you have yet to learn. He doesn’t like your weakest self, but he’s willing to help. You are ready. He shuts the door behind you. Begin.

You begin to take more meaningful breaths, as if life actually means something. There’s something inside you, something restless and playful, like you body already knew. Finally, it sighs, relieved. You realise how out of touch with it you’ve been, so out of touch that you had no interest and respect for new experiences anymore. Life’s upgrades bothered you. But now you dream of being out there again. In the light. In the dark. Somewhere in the open, where you can grow young and strong again.

You’re curious to know what it’d smell like, what it’d feel like sleeping there, what you’d be like there. You can almost sense it. Curious, imaginative, active, intuitive, inquisitive, quiet. Strong-minded. Crazy. And God would lean closer to Earth to watch your every move, rubbing his beard and smiling down at you.

“Careful,” your dragon says. “You’re going too far. We’re not there yet.”
You know that, but you want to go too far. But you agree to start again, from the beginning.

2 thoughts on “Here Be Dragons

  1. I’ve always loved your writing Anca. I think I was so impressed by one particular piece I have the link saved on my phone- just for literary aesthetic when I need it during the day haha.

    Always liked the unexpectedness – like how you said about fulfilling a dream versus watching your house , shockinf and intriguing. That, and how you carry sometimes abstract ideas without being lost (:


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