Have you ever flipped open a book with anticipation and excitement and abandoned the pages, mid-way?
The uninspiring words of my life is hardly the idyllic boat ride on a quiet stream under warm sunlight, instead, wear the face of an unfeeling droid. I want the uptempo of Vivaldi's winter, drawing fire from veins, but trembling hands cannot unlock doors to abyss.
Jump! Abandonment is not always foolish and we are made to adapt. Survival is less than we think we need. Comfort is for the old and I am not yet old.
Leap! Looking back with regrets of actions imagined is worse than regrets of execution. But recklessness is not far from impulse so how can I know the difference? These words escaped, almost, so many times in the past: "look at me, for I am yours." Rejection loomed and they were never uttered. Nothing risked and nothing gained.
Fly! If life is what I crave for, the ability of extreme emotions bring about verification. For in extreme joy, fear, sadness are we truly living, as opposed to the tempered feelings of a life unexplored.
And where am I now?