alexandraerin:

Imagine a minefield… a strip of land seeded with traps that will maim or kill you if you put one foot in the wrong place. What’s the wrong place? You’ll know when you step there. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. The pattern that gets you safely through one part might get you killed in another part.

It isn’t that every square inch of soil in the minefield means certain death, of course. But what would the ratio of safe ground to mined ground have to be before you could actually relax, before you could feel safe… before you could be safe, in practical terms?

Imagine that you and your entire family are woken up at dawn every day and made to cross the minefield in order to just live your lives. You’re not allowed to take the same route as each other. You have to watch each other as you make your way through an invisible deadly maze, never knowing if today will be the day but always knowing that it could be.

And one day, while you’re in the middle of that maze, watching your children or your siblings pick their way carefully around you, you say, “I HATE EVERY LAST INCH OF THIS FUCKING MINEFIELD.”

And then you hear a voice from up above you, from someone who doesn’t have to walk the minefield… someone who’s allowed to use a footbridge to bypass it every day while you’re inching your way through it, someone who gets a head start on everything compared to you and yours because they don’t have to go through the minefield…

And the voice says, “That isn’t fair. Sure, some of the minefield will kill you if you step on it, but it isn’t all like that.”