I missed so much of my life making signifigant the most insignifigant things. bilious contemplation with a few shreds left of what I wrote about it. So much fear, so many actions proving that I wasn't afraid, toes on the twelth story ledge. Your lungs hold more air in moments like that. The air there, it tastes better. Mere detours, and then lost courage for the challenges that could never kill me. There were a few giant leaps, but somewhere on some level, I knew most of them were not where I would end up. Somehow it never translated to a productive life. Or only productions that never went anywhere. The same mewling over and over again. Fritter away the lost days. Success is the only revenge. Better to know the empty bravado for what it was. The vacuum allows for greater deeds, deeper depths at last. I should have allowed myself more fun along the way to here. I might have gotten here faster if I had. Well, at least I can say that I never gave up and sat on the bench. I would rather take a beating playing out of my league than sitting on the bench in a small pond succumbing to the false confidence provincial condescension breeds. It's time to quit doubting my choices. It's easy to say you made the right choices when your head is in the sand or life is roses. It's harder when it's still hard and you haven't hit the homerun or slithered beneath your own blood's carcass for a warm nest. And today wasn't even that rough. I don't know where this comes from sometimes. There is only this moment. I should remember that more often.