The Loss

rough copy - to be developed. All suggestions are welcome. :)

Who can remember the moment they lost their innocence?

Was that the time when you wanted to have more candies than your brother? Or when you realised that you could make other toddlers cry in the playground? Was it when you told your first ever lie and secretly smiled to yourself, realising that you could get away with it? That your mother did not know everything afterall? Or when it dawned upon you that your father was not the superhero you had come to believe firmly?

Or does it really matter? Now that you are certain it is gone?

Closing your eyes, you immerse yourself a little more into the warm water. Lovely sensation of apple scented whitebeard, which suddenly grows on your chin. You smile to yourself. Yes, this feels right.

Doesn't it?

Hardly stopped and mourned the loss of innocence. Celebrated becoming this wordly, savouring the excitement of new experiences. Your eyes opened. You became wise. The secret smiles appeared more often on your lips. If there was a twinge of of unease pinching your heart every now and then, you knew it would go away. It had to. It always has. And there has always been a reward anyway. Once you are on your way, isn't it easier to carry on than to go back? And going back where? It's lost;never coming back. You will never get it back.

You sneeze. The white blanket covering you disperses, only to come together again;the small groups and islands travel slowly, leisurely and join up again. A sudden chill shakes your body. You do feel cold even while hidden in warm water.

"Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean." A.Huxley

"...On no account brood over your wrongdoing..." What if there is no next time? What if you know that the hand pushed yours away determinedly will never caress your eager skin? What if those eyes avoiding you desperately will never meets yours again? What if the firmly sealed lips will never apart to say 'I love you.'

And what if there has been no wrongdoing?

A faint sensation grows in you. Your lips quiver. Cannot see but you know they are turning blue;your skin feels cold, pale. As if you are becoming one with the whiteness covering you.

Lives spent pondering, wondering, philosophizing: What is right? What is wrong? Everything instilled in you since childhood -so that you will know when you grow up- but you still don't have the answers. Each year has blessed you with more questions. Although the new questions answer the previous ones, their own answers are unknown to you. And don't they get harder and more merciless! It is hardly fair when you know that you will only be 'wise' enough to answer them only when you know the answers. Catch 22.

No matter.

You wish everything making you happy to be right. You feel everything making him unhappy is wrong. And if what makes you happy makes him unhappy... If right is wrong and wrong is right... You want him to be happy.

Did you just pass out? Did time elapse? Are you buried deeper under the white cloud?

You raise your arm. Bits of cloud fall from your finger tips. The water drops rushing down your arm are red as they drip from your elbow. Lying wasted you recite Wordsworth:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

Never did you think those would be your last words.

Now there's good angst.

Wow, Scher, I stand . . . speechless, breathless. I can hardly believe that you said you do only little leisure writing, but I guess when you do, you promote quality over quantity. I know now what to say except 'wow'!
Selections of the essay flow so swiftly with thought, it resembles poetry - those quick movements of the mind that a reader accepts so subjectively. The question at the beginning compels the reader to think, "hmm, how did I lose my innocence?" By the end of the essay, the reader steps back and thinks "what does losing one's innocence mean?"
Amazingly done, Scher, very impressive!

mono, thank you very much for your encouraging words. As usual you are being very kind :) It is true that whatever little I write usually goes to the bin but I wanted this one to remain. It is really a rough copy, which I hope to develop over time. I would appreciate any opinions and suggestions.

Who can remember the moment they lost their innocence?

Was that the time when you wished to have more candies than your brother and had his share, too? Or when you realised that you could easily get your way in the playground by a simple push and made another toddler cry? Was it when you told your first ever lie however innocent it might be at the time and secretly smiled to yourself after realising you could get away with it? Or when you discovered that neither your mother knew everything nor your father was the superhero you had firmly come to believe after all?

Or does it really matter? Now that you are certain it is lost?

Your eyes meet their reflection. You did not know what you expected to find there: Happiness, sadness, regret, depression, resignation? The same coctail of emotions you have developed over the years; developed and practiced; some clumsily, some masterfully. Yet, today... It is relief that greets you there today. You smile at yourself, eyes still engaged and let your fingertips feel your lips fleetingly for a brief moment. A butterfly touch. Your eyes follow your fingers. They trace an invisible line leading down to your chin and throat; your valleys, craters and hills. A pulsing, throbbing, aching land. Cultivated but how and at what cost? 'Years are unkind', they say but it is surely nothing compared to your own. Negligence, over-indulgence, ignorance... You know it has all been worth it though. You lose some, you win some.

What was it that you won when you lost your innocence?

Closing your eyes, you slowly immerse yourself into the warm water, which envelops you like a hug. A familiar, longing, loving hug; one that, you once thought, would always be there for you. You slide down further and love the sensation of apple scented whitebeard which suddenly grows on your chin. You smile to yourself. Yes, this feels right.

Doesn't it?

You hardly stopped to mourn the loss of innocence; celebrated becoming this wordly, savouring the excitement of new experiences. Your eyes opened; you became wise. You discovered more; learnt more; got away with more. The secret smiles started to appear more and more often on your lips. If there was a twinge of of unease pinching your heart every now and then, you ignored it, knowing it would go away. It had to. It always has. And there has always been a reward, anyway; always something you wanted; always something making it worthwhile. You just could not give up then. Once you are on your way, isn't it easier to carry on than to go back? And going back where? It's lost; never coming back. You will never get it back.

You sneeze. The white blanket covering you disperses, only to unite again as the small islands travel slowly, leisurely to join up. A sudden chill shakes your body. You do feel cold even while hidden in warm water.

"Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean." A.Huxley

Repent, amend, behave better next time... What if there is no next time? What if you know that it is too late... too late since the moment you lost your innocence? What if you know that the hand pushed yours away determinedly will never caress your eager, expectant skin again? What if those eyes avoiding you desperately will never meet yours again? What if the firmly sealed lips will never apart to say 'I love you.' again?

And what if there has been no wrongdoing?

A faint sensation grows in you. You feel weak. Your lips quiver. Cannot see but you know they are turning blue;your skin feels cold, pale. As if you are becoming one with the whiteness covering you. So this is how it feels. You are discovering, learning something new but what is that you are getting away with this time?

Lives spent pondering, wondering, philosophizing: What is right? What is wrong? Everything instilled in you since your childhood -so that you will know when you grow up- but you still don't have the answers. Each year has blessed you with more questions. Although the new questions answer the previous ones, their own answers are unknown to you. And don't they get harder and more merciless! It is hardly fair when you know that you will only be 'wise' enough to answer them only when you know the answers. Catch 22.

No matter.

You wish everything making you happy to be right. You feel everything making him unhappy is wrong. And if what is making you happy makes him unhappy... If right is wrong and wrong is right... You want him to be happy.

Did you just pass out? Did time elapse? Are you buried deeper under the white cloud?

You raise your arm. Bits of cloud fall from your finger tips. The water drops rushing down your arm are red as they drip from your elbow. Lying wasted you recite Wordsworth:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

Never did you think those would be your last words.

Very nice, Scher; it looks good. You edited well, as it has good structure, all of your thoughts lead and continue well into each other, and I did not even see any typos (except for that British spelling, 'realising' ;)).
As a professor, you probably know this better than I do to site your sources well, if any.
Well done.