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Quiet


I have zero idea how many people take time to navigate through this thing I call a blog so with that uncertainty in mind, I try not to put too much pressure upon myself to manufacture content which isn't real. There are definitely times when I allow myself to be human and imagine thousands of people subscribing and emailing me their thoughts about something I've written, perhaps emails of inspiration, perhaps connectivity, or perhaps just a quick hello; however, there are never times that I sit and think about the negative which could exist too.

Years ago, I told myself that happiness, my happiness was paramount above anything else in my life. In retrospect my life has been nothing short of a blessing, much like the other seven plus billion people on this planet, I have my good days and my bad days but those days push me to become stronger/better.

Currently, I feel as if I'm at a bit of a crossroad(s) of some kind, I'm wanting to risk something maybe a lot of things but I'm too scared to simply let go and forge a new path, a unknown path. My brother Fred jokes with me from time to time and he says, "Bro, you're afraid of life" and to his point, I am, I'm afraid to fail, I'm afraid to be uncomfortable so I simply sit.

Yesterday, I read an article by a woman who wrote about the quiet times she and her husband of twenty plus years shared and by quiet she meant non-confrontational years of feeling like yelling but instead nothing ever being shared. In the article she spoke of the time she finally allowed herself to be real for a moment and how her realness was met with continued silence.

In my head, I often say that patience is the key to my success yet I look in the mirror and fail to find someone who is successful per se, instead I find a quiet man who has pinned so much junk inside him that he has tricked himself into being quiet, muted to what should be said but isn't.

This afternoon I spent four hours or so trying to clean my house on my own. As I stood and looked at the Fred Sanford pile of junk that my cousin has collected and transferred into my house, I began to get overwhelmingly sad. I've had more than a long weekend so it could have just been the fatigue creeping in or it could have been the fact my cousin doesn't place a trash bag in the garbage can before he throws trash inside of it, it could have been the fact my refrigerator was a radioactive holding pen for foods which could probably walk away on their own, then again my sadness could just stem from the fact, I never blow up and truly tell people how I feel.

Today, I explained how much taking a chance at something would mean to me; I ended up crying like a baby as I carried on to my roommate and the lad just sat there and listened to me rant about my life for ten minutes or so and he also watched me cry. I'm not one who cries often, outwardly, however inwardly I feel as if I'm a mountain of emotions just waiting to be unleashed much like lava or ashes from a volcano.

What am I hinting at, you might ask, shoot, I might ask? There's something missing in my life, a spark, a need to know that I'm okay and years from now I'll be okay due to some of the decisions I'd like to make.

The perception some might have is that I'm constantly running around doing all of these fun things in life without a care in the world for the duties at hand, the adult stuff (I can't curse on here right, I mean...) When in fact, I'm still very much so trying to figure out what this adult life encompasses.

One of my main enjoyments, in life, is travel, the idea of packing a bag, driving to an airport, showing my passport, and an attendant handing me my boarding passes and then saying, "Enjoy your trip..." There's just something wonderful about the idea of it all.

This is me below, I'm ready to fly emotionally, physically, metaphorically, and suddenly! Our world is set to change soon and I for one want to see as much of it as I can. It's my time to not be....


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