It is a trip to say the least and to say the least, it is a trip to turn around and realize that yes, age took place, time has passed, and years have gone by in a flash.
Wow . . .
I will be 54 next month.
This is life and again, I repeat the C’est la vie, this is life or such is life and such is age, and time, and such are the realizations which take place when we are old enough to look back.

Here I am, sitting in a waiting room to have my blood drawn.
I do not like doctors . . .
I am too young to be this old.
Or so I think.
But I am too old to think that I will be young forever.

When there is no room left for excuses and when there is nowhere left to turn, the next few steps may seem painful or perhaps risky. But rest assured, when there’s nothing left, then there’s nothing left, which means the next steps we take are far more worthy than anything else in our life.
Therefore, now is the time to pick up the pieces and see what we can do, “to make a go of it.”

I ask the question, why?
Why do we fight? Why do we argue?
Why do we waste our time on insignificant things when we know that time is short, the moment is all we have, and if this is so. Then why do we spend our precious time and bicker back and forth with the ones we love?

And more than anything, I have to say that “it just can’t stop.”
Nothing stops.
“It just doesn’t work like that.”

The dreams, I mean.
Nothing stops when it comes to matters of the heart and as for the mind?
Well?

Something is amiss . . .
Or maybe something is off or off-center and me, I am somewhere in the middle.
Do you understand?

I am stuck and looking around at the world that somehow consumes me.
There is too much to see and so much to consider and at the same time; I am reminded when I was told, “keep it simple, stupid!”
Overthinking can be amazing.
or at least, I think so.

1)

And how would it be? A new world?
A new life?
A new time, made for a new form of living and a new way which is mad or madder than the madman who lives to die or dies to live.
What is this?

What is desire if nothing else than a spot or a place in my heart to which I swear to live and remain unfearful to die, or if at all or if anything else, who am I now or who will I be now?
Who will I become now that the older versions of me have been dismissed?

The time was sunset during an early August moment just before the sky changed.
All was quiet.

I was sitting in a small beach chair in a field of green grass and looking around at a small park known to me as Eisenhower.
And this place too.
This place dates back to the longstanding memories of this thing I call my youth and the birthplace of too many memories that caused me to worry and fear the backhand of the status quo.

The rain is heavy outside.
I suppose the rain matches the mood and the mood matches the time.
At least, for me.

I think now is a good time for me to get this out.
The wind picked up but so has the rain.
Perhaps now is a good time for me to cleanse my soul.
And so . . .
here I go

What do you miss the most? I ask this because if you miss something or if you miss anything, then there has to be a reason and regardless of what the reason is, what do you miss and what do you miss the most?

I will say there is bravery in our decisions to stand up and walk away.
There is bravery to face the unknown and even if we chose to stay someplace and not take the risk and venture outwards or onwards, it take courage to make a decision, —even if that decision appears weak or cowardly; it is a brave thing to face the pains that come with “more of the same.”