It wasn't today, of course. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. But the past few weeks, I think, have been deeply priming me for some sort of transition I will either love or loathe.
I'm gonna let you in on a little secret--time alone scares me. It's one of the best feelings in the world, of course, since you become productive alone, too, but that same productivity is something I find so hard to trust.
Just like a sword, everything good has a double edge. This isn't pessimistic at all, but, in reality, there will always be two sides to anything. Going back to my previous train of thought, I hate alone time as much as I bask in it. Because it is the one thing that never fails to catch me off-guard. Every. Single. Time.
When I started over, I had so much pain and longing for the life I had to leave behind, and it hurt like hell that something you work so hard on gets taken away from you in the blink of an eye. It was a struggle, to say the least, which I somehow managed to work through, but now that I'm in the middle of yet another transition in my life, it still feels strange that there's so much I hold back on. It isn't anything selfish, really, just... Proper.
A few days ago I was asked an age-old question: Safe and boring or Dangerous but fun? The waiting game indeed sucks to begin with and real strength lies in making choices. But I still don't know which side I'm on. Maybe I'll find out soon? Yes. Maybe.
In other news, I'm insanely grateful for the gift of foresight. I always knew such an incident would change the way the world turned, and it did. At least for me. Sure, there were random swipes at what tito Rico sang about, but the decision was mounted by the flick that, without a doubt, sealed the deal.
It doesn't even matter that the quest for normalcy remains in action--the sun simply cannot be stopped from setting. Kudos to uninhibited glory, too, because it was exactly what I needed to ride my chariot and join the fate of the red-orange sun. At least, as I end this sojourn, I know a new one will begin. And it will be as tumultuous as what I just came from. Only, this time, I know how my horses should be held.
I went into this transition with hope that my weary heart can get by--and it did, for a while. Only now, I feel like I need to take those steps back and reevaluate my road less taken. Since it was my follow-through that drained my sanity out, I trust that this same follow-through wrings out anything dragging me down. It was Nostradamus from the very start--my little Saunder would ultimately take me off the edge. And, not surprisingly, Marissa Cooper never gets to Berkeley.
This is probably my last semblance-of-an-actual-summer and I can't wait to start it. All apprehensions should be put to rest real soon, as I hang my proverbial mask and face the inevitable depths of the unknown. I know it'll be less than eventful, and that I won't even get to feel sand between my toes, but there's a certain kind of calm that I'm looking forward to feeling once all this is over. And, maybe then, I'd be completely at peace.
For right now, though, I see myself become one of those shadowy figures I drew back in sixth grade. Solitary, staring out into the sun, passively allowing the red-orange beacon of hope sink into the darkness of the sea.
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