Episode Zero

Part Zero

I think of the world in terms of ribbons.

Each person has their own, invisible to the normal eye. A ribbon could be bright yellow, waving lazily to the movement of its own personal wind. Or a blushing pink, draped tenderly around the shoulders of others as if to comfort. Or maybe black as night, wrapped tightly around the throat of its master. Each ribbon is different and portrays all the emotions, thoughts, and natural inclinations of a person.

Ribbons, because of their natural ebb and flow, tend to tangle themselves to others. The tightest knots are the ones that have been tied together the longest. But even the tautest of knots can snap if the right pressure is applied to them. They can be snipped as if by a scissor, and rarely do those ever meet again. Then there are others that travel long distances, spanning miles—sometimes regions—away, and still they stretch to keep themselves tightly bound to each other.

The world, if anyone could see its entirety on this plain of existence, is a ball of tightly wound ribbons, all connected in some way or form. Yet I have not met any other person who could see these ribbons. I wish someday I could meet such a person so that he or she could see my ribbon, the one I can only catch a glimpse of out of the corner of my eye, and tell me what they see. Maybe then, through the appearance of my ribbon, will I truly know Myself.