Ten years ago
I was lying in my own self pity, the engine to my car had burned up
as well as my dreams of selling it and spending the money on a trip to Amsterdam where I could smoke weed legally and write in some seedy
hotel room.
Smoking weed from a foil pipe before my art classes, I’d completely mailed things in and soon enough I wasn’t even in school.
I took a job steam cleaning and laying carpets and would soon lose that job after sleeping in, nursing a killer hangover from an evening of acid, wine, and hydro at a Tom Petty concert.
So that fall found me kind of searching for that next step.
But i knew I wanted to travel, give back to my community and society, make love to different women, meet different people from different backgrounds, and eventually finish school. I knew I wanted to write but i had nothing to write about back then.
So i enrolled back in school, got my grades good enough to transfer to a university and spent a lot of time travellling, making love, meeting people, and becoming a good enough writer to be proud of my output.
So when i tell people i’m happy with who I am, I’m not saying I’m satisfied with the person I’ve become and need no more improvement upon my character and situation; I’m just saying I’ve come far.
In relation to who I once was, miserable, lost, restless and confused, I’m in a much better place now.
I’ve got my own crib, I’ve got a nice little catalog to build on, friends, family and experiences, sometimes its good to reflect and get a little perspective on how far you’ve come.
it makes you appreciate and understand the journey you’re on. i don’t have that much further to go to be the guy i imagined.
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