Have you ever been so excited yet scared at the same time you swear you’ll explode into a burst of flames followed by a shower of confetti?
I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I did, but I may have lied. This feeling came sooner than I had anticipated. But more than likely, right on time. My tears are fueled by a fire inside, from a place whose surface I’ve only scratched. And every time I think I’ve reached some sort of hurdle, I find the strength to not only jump – but FLY.
It’s not the mountains I’m scared to climb, it’s the plateaus I’m afraid of getting used to.
So I lay here in the sanctuary of these four walls I call my room, under the protection of seven-by-seven miles of comfort, love, friends, and family. Wishing there was some way I could bottle it up for the times I’m sure I’ll want to drink my sorrows away.
I am scared. Scared of change. Scared of stagnancy. Scared of being alone. Scared of feeling claustrophobic. Scared that nothing will ever clear my head like a Great Highway run, or kiss my soul like a sunrise in the Sunset. Scared that things will never be the same. And even more scared things will always remain the same. Most of all, I’m scared of living a mediocre life.
So we do some “What the fuck?!” ass shit that forces us to ignite a dwindling kindling. And go the distance for the things we hold close to our heart. I guess that would make me crazy in love. Steve Jobs coined the phrase, “Stay hungry, stay foolish.” This blog proves how foolish I’ve been/can be. Thank God I’ve never been one to diet.