A white blank page and a swelling rage.
After several busy weeks I’m here, writing again.
I’ve found myself in a weird place the last few days. I’ve got this blank page tacked to the wall of my office and every day I look at it, sing Mumford and Sons to myself and wait for the inspiration to write on that paper. That paper represents my life. Open. Blank; but boundless with opportunity. Opportunities I’ve haven’t been ready to take.
However, I like risk. The best friend would say “Anymore spontaneity and I’d jump out of an airplane… without the parachute.” I’m not scared of risk… It’s just uncomfortable to start with.
I’m more aware now than ever, that time is a precious thing and it’s moving at the speed of light. The world is quickly turning around me and I am trying to take it all in.
Brett Roberts used to say “Time is the most precious thing in the world. You’ll never get back your time. So, what are you going to do with it?”
Well, I’m 19 years old; and yes, that’s young but it won’t be forever. I’ve got this list of things I want to do but I’ve found myself waiting- I’ve over analyzed every option, ran a series of algorithms, and at the infinite moment when I should have had breakthrough… I still had a choice. And all logic and reason couldn’t change that the risk factor is high but the regret factor is higher and hell of a lot harder to live with.
I’ve got the whole world in my hands; and it’s wet and dry, cold and hot, bound and free. It’s beautiful. It makes me happy. Today, I’m considering taking the step, plunging straight into the depth of it all and maybe, … I don’t know… just maybe, I’ll write on my blank page.
