The path is carved out in front of us. A yellow brick road, of sorts. Each of us can follow it – we know not of what else. Sometimes we skirt towards the edges, savouring the risk of almost – but not quite – stepping over.

For some of us, there is no path. We were not born onto a simple route. We were to be forever lost, collapsing in a world where all else has definitive routes to take. We are the marginalised, the downtrodden, the forgotten. We are the invisible.

Then there are those stop and stare – those who question the path laid out before them, wondering why that path exists. We are the ones who are stuck. We are those who shout loudly, but no-one can hear us, or wants to hear us. We are the resisters, the protesters, the masses.

But the glory, the true glory, goes to those who noticing that the path is far too rigid and predetermined, having shouted and not been heard, learn that real liberation comes from stepping off that hazardous endless path of conformity. They (for it is not us) are those who re to be admired. They are those who have conquered fear, those whose courage and wisdom makes them charismatic and wise. They are those whose brilliance can only be seen, not imagined.

I have skirted along the edges of this yellow brick road too often. I have shouted, and not been heard. I have carried on walking only to feel more lost than ever. I know that my real path lies outside of this path of conformity, but I am afraid. And that fear is my destruction.

I will take my leap of faith. I just need to feel more prepared.