Untitled--Nikki

When we are around six years old we learn how to ride a bike for the first time. At six
years old, there is nothing in this world that has higher accomplishment than being on a small bike, riding down the bumps of the sidewalk, while parents and friends cheer for you. When I first learned how to ride a bike without training wheels I thought there was nothing else in this world that mattered, and at the time, there wasn’t. It was the first time I felt balanced. The world wasn’t tilting to one side, dragging its victims to the ground. When you first learn how to ride a bike, you think about all the places you can go, but as a child all I wanted to do was ride down the hill. The hill by my house has a turn at the bottom of it, the blindness of what is beyond the curve of the street never fazed me as a child. The mystery of it all never intrigued me nor scared me. It was just the idea of coming down and feeling the wind brush my skin that evoked the excitement in me. As the gravity pulled the wheels downwards, I could only hear the shouts of the people around me. What I thought her shouts of excitement, I later realized were shouts of fear as the small blue corolla whipped around the corner. Even the wind whistling in my ears could not muffle the squeak of the breaks from the car skidding away from hitting the small child in the middle of the street. The hilarity of the situation lies in the fact that I was not crippled with fear from almost hitting the headlights. It was easy for me to make sense of the situation and move to the sidewalk, even as a small child.
I never stopped riding my bike in the middle of the street. But I still look back on events like this in my life and wonder what would have been. The serenity of laying silent on a windshield, never losing the innocence of what I once had. Obviously it is not a wish, rather

more of a ponder. Why would I want to peak beyond the turn, ever again? Why did not knowing whether a car was coming or not almost excite me? Was I not born to fear death the way others do? Or simply do I just want to believe that no matter what decision I make, I will be safe no matter what the risks entail.

As I got older, I learned that I could do tricks down the hill. Hands tied behind my back, standing on my pedals making the seat useless. As I went down the hill, I would listen for the smallest whisper of an engine to determine whether I move out the way or make the dangerous turn. It was almost a game of chicken that I played with myself. When I put my hands back onto the handle bars, I lose. This started a new time in my life where I wanted to push the boundaries of what I could do. I craved adventure and the idea of having fun outweighed the idea of pain or punishment. Although I knew that one day a car could swing by and strike me, it never stopped from testing the possibilities. I can never look back on my childhood and decipher what was childlike innocence and what was pure stupidity. When does innocence end and the foolishness begin?

I could never explain why someone would want to put themselves in any danger, even of the slightest amounts. Perhaps it’s the idea that life is renderless without fun. And for those like me, the fun lies in the possibility of an unknown outcome. Living in such a hopeless world, it is easier to get lost in a feeling of being carefree, even for just a moment. It was never the idea of death that excites me, it was the idea of not knowing the next outcome. Now knowing how I see life, just a large game of chance, I can further deter bad decisions. I can reason with myself on my purposes and intentions. Do I hope to find the adrenaline in the possibility of harm, or rather I just want to try something new. Distinguishing the excitement of trying something new and the excitement fueled by pure agnst creates a sense of maturity. Looking inward to decide if they seek being in harm's way.