it’s not about if…

i sit on the balcony. i watch the ocean. i can’t see the end. it looks like a picture, two dimensional, except for the island in the way. the water is grey. the sky is hazy. filled, dense with clouds. like my thoughts.

so many thoughts.

it’s funny thinking about things that might be/could be/should be. and every moment leading to them. every one of them. making their mark. being what they’re meant to. doing their job. making a point.

right now, it’s hard to consider the point.

good things come to those who wait. and i’m waiting, trying my best to stay patient, becoming restless. edgy. apprehensive. as if i know everything i am doing is coming to a head, bubbling, boiling about to overflow at any minute but that minute seems like hours away. and when hours feel like days, minutes become a lifetime.

waiting, waiting, waiting.

so i sit with the ocean breeze stinging my face and i watch the horizon with no end. i think about my life and i think about my choices and i think about everything that has led me to this point.

a brilliant echo of a life with a goal.

i sit here with not just one, but hundreds of possibilities of a fated path with too many options to fathom them all. let’s just forget for a while and bathe in the salty air. without a worry, without anything resembling a care. i’ll start thinking again tomorrow. the clouds will soon be gone.


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