Feeling overwhelmed and lost, I drove out to a remote part of Virginia to just sit and gather my thoughts. After an influx of calls, text messages and emails, I turned of my phone and turned to my consistent problem solvers. My pen and my pad. Here is what resulted:
My pages have remained blank for far too long. My thoughts have been as shallow as puddles in the summer sun. Fighting with the duality existing in this one mind. Criticizing myself to avoid vanity; praising my self to avoid self disappointment.
Trying to find truth in life, while holding on to the lies that ease my struggle. Setting myself apart from the crowd because I realize it is mandatory for progress; but still comparing myself to the masses, adapting their ways in fear of complete isolation. Balancing living today like there is no tomorrow; with living like no one else will today, so I can live like no one else can tomorrow. Trying to find the joy in the struggle, the fulfillment in the sacrifice, the instant gratification in living for a bright future.
How do I find contentment without finding complacency? How much of my destiny is fantasy? If today really is the last day of my life, do I feel like I have lived it to the fullest? When I am gone will it even matter? Does it make more sense to plan for death or life?
I am far more certain that regret exists in old age than I am that it exists in death. So maybe I should live everyday like it’s that first day of my life instead of the life. So despite my previous actions and inherit iniquities, I have a chance to win the game. I just have to play the hand I am dealt each morning to the best of my abilities. Whether I have to play it straight up or bluff, I still have an equal chance at the pot.
Oh, the things that come to you when writing… feeling less overwhelmed
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