of today and tomorrow lies the transcendental notion of becoming, the infinitive form, “to be.” This is the most terrifying moment (in the mathematical sense) of force, pivot, or being known to man. To be is to risk. To risk is to (eventually) lose. Losses are the mark of time. Successes are immortal, but losses are simply ticks round the face of the mortality stopwatch.
Put yourself out there. Otherwise you won’t have.
I wish retrospective wisdom could be had prospectively.
Ever get the feeling that some people spend their whole lives running away from themselves without ever once managing to get any distance from their own shadow?