The fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot. I have been living a life of imagination. Now, finally I’m attempting to breach the real world. For the longest time I have imagined my success. I have imagined being a published author, a film-maker, a musician; hoping that one day these things will come to me. Hoping that one day I will make the moral effort to put myself out there and have an adventure. So, I will show the world how much of a fool I am, in the hope that I will grow and learn.
I always thought: in the future I’ll be flexible. In the future. Something will happen in the future that will make me flexible. It’s me. It’s all me. Everything I want is down to me. I want to be an author, I must write. I want to make music, I must learn to play an instrument. I want to be flexible, I must stretch. I want to marry a beautiful woman whom I love, I must go out and talk to beautiful women. There is no waiting. Waiting is decay. There is no being handed things, as I have been my whole life. There is only going and doing. Go and do!
I am 26 and I often feel like a boy. That is because I often behave like a boy. I don’t take on the necessary responsibility to improve my life. I don’t sacrifice my time and leisure for the work that will progress me into the world I am afraid of but must enter into. I will sacrifice. I will work and write and post blogs and make YouTube videos and post things on Instagram. I will face it.
Now will I fight. Now will I grow. Now will I make manifest my potential.
I will become the man I know I can be.
Learning About Life 