thank you.

Lately I’ve been worrying about my future, just as any teenager would at this point in his or her life.

I’ve made plans only to crumble them up and toss them into the monotonous pile of what would have been: a pile which lies in the shadowed, humid corner of my mind; a pile which grows rooted in fear, unease, and expectancy.

I only love to walk when I don’t have a destination. Otherwise we don’t realize the simplicities which surround us. Otherwise destination is our dictator: he controls each turn we take and the pace at which we walk. Otherwise, we’re not free.

I was on a train saying this is where I’m going, this is what I’ll do.

But he said to me, “If you don’t like to walk with a destination, you won’t like to live with one either.”

That pile now burns in sunshine of a vast, wild meadow of my mind.