Dragonfree
Just me
Warning: This little thing deals with religious issues. Please do not read if you think you will be offended.
The Story of a Boy
Imagine two parents who have two children. One of them is a living replica of both of them: if either of the parents is seen in the streets with him, it can be seen from miles away that he has to be their son. Meanwhile, the other one looks not a bit like either of them.
Both of the sons grow up loving their parents, following all their rules and being little angels like every child should be, at least in every parent’s opinion – but at that frail stage when a child becomes an individual capable of critical thinking, the aforementioned son who does not resemble his parents in outwards appearance suddenly starts to wonder and doubt. Could he perhaps be – dare I say it? – adopted?
The doubt bothers him for a while, and finally he dares to voice it to his parents. But they are now very mysterious about it: they seem to avoid answering no matter how hard he presses them, and when he asks them for a copy of his birth certificate, they refuse to show it to him.
It is only natural that in such a situation, he would only become more suspicious. After all, why would they not show him his birth certificate if they had nothing to hide? It does not appear they have simply lost it, either, as then they would have told him that. He starts getting grudges at this point, wondering whether his parents really were ever that great – what sort of parent would make special effort to prevent a child from knowing where he really came from? His politeness starts to fade a little (understandably, of course), but he continues to behave, not because his parents want him to but simply because those are the rules; either way he finds them good rules and has no particular desire to break them.
His parents’ friends soon catch wind of this situation and start trying to convince him that he is his parents’ biological son. We have known your parents for a long time, they say, and they would never do such a thing. Some of them take a different approach and claim that in fact they can see certain similarities in appearance between him and his parents. But the birth certificate, the boy protests, still not convinced. Why won’t they show me my birth certificate?
Various responses to this. Some of them mumble with clear lack of conviction that well, all people have their oddities. Others say they want to test his faith in them, because no good son would doubt the identity of his parents.
Now the son slowly grows mad, and in the end he confronts his parents and says: Mom and dad, just show me the birth certificate now. I’d wish it to be true, but you’re making me think it’s not.
And the parents snap.
Shouting, crying, yelling, beating. Finally the boy is thrown out into the streets for doubting what was dubious and asking for the final truth.
The boy meets his former brother again on a cold, rainy day.
Come back, the brother says. Accept that they’re your parents. They’ll forgive you and you can come back.
But the boy, shivering with cold, shakes his head. He would rather be anywhere other than with his supposed parents – because it has never been clearer that they are not his parents, no, not even his adoptive parents.
He wants to tell his brother that, but he doesn’t.
As the brother walks back into the house and closes the door, the abandoned boy has no longing to return to the warmth of his house and love of his parents.
Because what sort of parents would abandon their child for no other fault than seeking the truth?
Now, please tell me you got the point behind this. Please.
The Story of a Boy
Imagine two parents who have two children. One of them is a living replica of both of them: if either of the parents is seen in the streets with him, it can be seen from miles away that he has to be their son. Meanwhile, the other one looks not a bit like either of them.
Both of the sons grow up loving their parents, following all their rules and being little angels like every child should be, at least in every parent’s opinion – but at that frail stage when a child becomes an individual capable of critical thinking, the aforementioned son who does not resemble his parents in outwards appearance suddenly starts to wonder and doubt. Could he perhaps be – dare I say it? – adopted?
The doubt bothers him for a while, and finally he dares to voice it to his parents. But they are now very mysterious about it: they seem to avoid answering no matter how hard he presses them, and when he asks them for a copy of his birth certificate, they refuse to show it to him.
It is only natural that in such a situation, he would only become more suspicious. After all, why would they not show him his birth certificate if they had nothing to hide? It does not appear they have simply lost it, either, as then they would have told him that. He starts getting grudges at this point, wondering whether his parents really were ever that great – what sort of parent would make special effort to prevent a child from knowing where he really came from? His politeness starts to fade a little (understandably, of course), but he continues to behave, not because his parents want him to but simply because those are the rules; either way he finds them good rules and has no particular desire to break them.
His parents’ friends soon catch wind of this situation and start trying to convince him that he is his parents’ biological son. We have known your parents for a long time, they say, and they would never do such a thing. Some of them take a different approach and claim that in fact they can see certain similarities in appearance between him and his parents. But the birth certificate, the boy protests, still not convinced. Why won’t they show me my birth certificate?
Various responses to this. Some of them mumble with clear lack of conviction that well, all people have their oddities. Others say they want to test his faith in them, because no good son would doubt the identity of his parents.
Now the son slowly grows mad, and in the end he confronts his parents and says: Mom and dad, just show me the birth certificate now. I’d wish it to be true, but you’re making me think it’s not.
And the parents snap.
Shouting, crying, yelling, beating. Finally the boy is thrown out into the streets for doubting what was dubious and asking for the final truth.
The boy meets his former brother again on a cold, rainy day.
Come back, the brother says. Accept that they’re your parents. They’ll forgive you and you can come back.
But the boy, shivering with cold, shakes his head. He would rather be anywhere other than with his supposed parents – because it has never been clearer that they are not his parents, no, not even his adoptive parents.
He wants to tell his brother that, but he doesn’t.
As the brother walks back into the house and closes the door, the abandoned boy has no longing to return to the warmth of his house and love of his parents.
Because what sort of parents would abandon their child for no other fault than seeking the truth?
Now, please tell me you got the point behind this. Please.
