Everybody wants to be the author of perception.
The way you see life, the way it should be done, the rules to be kept, and those to be broken and those that can only be bent.
With enough courage, hope and sometimes nativity, some will give it a try.
But as every journey that starts out in the dark towards the light, it soon becomes revealed that in fact, somebody else has already done the writing.
That’s when others admit that this is God’s world and his way is to go.
Then others see also that the Albert Einsteins, Platos, Hitlers and Musks have done it before.
And that’s when it becomes important for one to educate himself if he’s going to at least learn how to thread on the foundations that have already been laid.
And that’s why when I write:
– I’m writing the raw me;
-Hoping that this is the real me;
-And praying that time waits for the finished me.
I’m writing my excuses. “I haven’t done this much yet because I think this bit here is important to grasp first.”
I’m writing my motivations. “My efforts will show, my patience will grow, I’ve planted the seeds and laid my bed, and I’ve bought the stove that will bake our bread.”
I’m writing my fears. “I’m afraid that I gave myself the medal before I ran the race and now I might never win because I started my celebrations before I encountered my opposition.”
I’m writing my resume:
Sending it out where I wish I could be – leaving it where I might have to settle for compromise – tearing it up at the first sign of rejection – gluing it together again when I rediscover my passion.
Man I wish I could come up with something that will be worth:
And when it cuts and hurts, something that was worth the bleeding.