I should go to central park more often. It helps clarify the mind, and sometimes even puts things in their right perspective. That's what I've generally heard, and it works in my case. What may not be so broad is the sense of melancholic despair that often comes from reflecting on my current reality, the place I want to be at in 5-10 years, and the realization that the future will statistically not materialize the way I imagine it. The possibilities frighten me when I feel emotionally challenged about giving away parts of life I've depended on for almost two decades in exchange for the strength to give that important step forward.
It was March. The people at the park looked radiant. It had been a grueling, if short, winter. The sound of Creed in my ears made the long walk home feel like floating. Reflecting with the imminence of death in mind helps ignore minutia. Life is happening inside, outside, and around us while we think and ponder possibilities.
The time has come to kick down doors and break all windows. The rouletista is in session. Let the chips fall where they may.
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