Sometimes I feel like this life wasn't meant for me. Granted, that thought usually strikes at about 4am when I've lost all my faith in humanity because I'm 1000 words short on my essay or I'm trying to teach myself legal principles because I didn't go to class but you get the point.
Sometimes it just makes me wonder - how powerful one single moment can be to move you from one path to the next. What is it about my yesterday that brought me to this tomorrow? And is there a way back? A way to undo this reality and replace it with a different one?
I mean I get it. After high school I made sensible choices; ones that some people aren't lucky enough to even consider. I should be grateful. And I am - really. I just wonder where I would be - who I would be - if I'd done things differently. If I'd been brave enough to say then what I feel now, I wonder what my forever would have been like.
Because in my daydreams I'm flatting in 1960s Soho with chain-smoking artists wearing my black beret and hippy scarf and jewellery I handmade out of bits of melted-down cutlery, staging protests against the man through art and poetry, oozing rebellion from my every pore.
I always wanted to be the tortured soul who wrote amazingly painful lyrics and painted deep emotional water colours kinda like Monet's "Water Lilies" except dark and broody. Imagine my dismay when I found I completely lack any remote artistic or musical talent so thus ends that dream. Woe is me.
For now I guess I'm still figuring it all out but I hope when I get there I'll be satisfied I didn't move mountains only to sell myself short.
Lesson Thirteen: Be brave. Be bold. Be you.
xx
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