from a place straight out of my past. And wherever and whatever it may be is still unfolding, still becoming. But I feel the itch of the ink on my ankle these days. No, not the star. The heart, and the butt. The one that tells me repeatedly that putting your heart into anything simply isn’t enough. Yeah, that one. It’s itching. Like it’s trying to tell me something. Like it’s reminding me that I have to put my butt on the line too.
In order to have a future.
But first I’ve got to finish the dream. I’ve got to decide where, how, what. And I’m building a network… which is very hard work yo? But necessary… oh so necessary. Busy all the time – planning, plotting, mapping. I just want to scream at kids who don’t understand that worthwhile futures don’t just happen by accident, outcomes don’t just make themselves be.
The life you get is the result of all the things that happen to you while you’re planning another life that you won’t likely end up with. God laughs at us when we plan. Or not. Sometimes it all works out.
Feeling very disjointed. Possibly this isn’t making total sense, but it does to me. All you need to know is that I’m possibly evolving some more. In ways I don’t yet fully understand… so how can you? What are my dreams? Is it too late to have them? Is it too late to finally decide to live a different life? Is it too late to change the path?
So. Many. Questions. And no answers. But I’m working on it. As I plot, and plan, and stew, and fume.
This won’t happen by accident.
Unless it does. While I’m planning another path.