I like to imagine that one day, hopefully soon, there'll be the time to invest into something great. Something awesome in every sense of the word.
Until then, it's as if my time is frozen solid. Frozen slow. Not without pain of regret, lament and all the other feelings that mix together to swell into a rather unfortunate mess of "I should be working," or "I should be doing better." But it's okay to wait, or so I'll say, because a year means nothing.
And there's mistakes to be made and made again. And there's stories to be read and told again. And there's lives to be lived and understood, or thought to be understood, because it can be so hard to take a crack at what's authentic, real.
If there was one thing I wish I could be, I wish I could be unwilling to be satisfied. If there was one thing I need most, it would be reason. If there was one thing I wish I could understand, it would be the distance between conviction and disbelief, because when all else fails, what else will take me home?
It might be time to stop living too many lives.
