Peaceful's not as calming as I hoped it would be. I can't seem to escape the pit in my stomach, warning me about the future, warning me to take a more stable, predictable path. I can't get past this voice in my head that's telling me not to invest completely, even though I know letting go, letting myself ride my imagination and my dreams, is the only way I'll feel satisfied. If I'm doing something meaningless in two years just to make my nights more restful and my future more predictable, I don't know if I could ever forgive myself for not trying, for not throwing myself off the bridge just to see if I could fly.
I wish I knew why I want to do what I want to do. I wish I knew why all my organs shiver in anticipation when I create, when I think about putting pen to the page and letting all the motion in my brain create momentum and power something that seems beyond human, beyond living. I wish I knew why when the wind blows through my hair I feel like I'm getting lifted up and carried to a place where I trust myself not to let go.