i don’t write when i’m happy. there’s something in me that makes me not feel the need. there’s no urgency. i become complacent. too satisfied. just content.
i don’t write when i’m busy, either. which is what i am now. i hate it. busyness has no business in my life. i’ve said it before, i’ll say it again. take me back to the warm sands of hawaii with the ocean lapping at my toes. i was made for island living. born for it.
but that stands beside the point.
the point is that i’m happy and life is good and people are real and dreams are coming true.
but there are bigger dreams too, ones i haven’t been working on. ones that are gripping me tight and shaking me up and making me want to breathe heavily into a brown paper bag with my head out the window of a car that’s going too fast.
the wind on my face.
waking me up.
it’s getting back into that feeling and that knowledge that life is way too short. it’s pulling myself together and slapping my cheeks. this is it. this is all there is.
stop taking life for granted.
i’ll make things happen. 2012 has been huge. and it’s not over yet, not matter how fast it seems to be flying past my eyes, another week with every blink. this year. i’ll prove it to myself.