Suspended.
Suspended.
Up. Far away from all the noise, all the confusion. I’ve viewed things up close for so long that I’ve lost perspective. Lost my path, so to speak. Years of getting everything you ask of the Universe can ruin a person. Your passion can fade, your sense of wonderment becomes tarnished, and your desire to become a better person is put on hold. I carelessly slipped into Complacency’s embrace, unknowingly tucking away my worldly ambition into the darkest corners of my mind. The treasure chest, loaded with childhood dreams and packed with detailed plans to help push the world forward, was much too heavy, and largely forgotten; it was sinking into my subconscious, where such naive yet respectable dreams of worldly pursuits surely would have withered away. Complacency was chipping away at my once gleaming chest of dreams, initially hidden to protect my most prized aspirations. Complacency had even found its way into the chest, and the detailed outlines that I had carefully written were fading into a colorless ink that I could no longer read. My dreams were slowly but surely turning into painful memories tinged with regret and confusion. Who have I become? How did I get here? My personality began to take on a much darker, more bitter tone. Inner drive slowed down to a sluggish pace, innocence soured into impurity, happiness fell into resentment. My transformation was a miserable one, and my outlook on life became rather bleak. Somehow, some way, I felt myself slipping. Perhaps the promise I made to myself as a child - to never have a mid-life crisis - helped me with this process. I knew that I had to get away from the mess that I had created (with Complacency’s helping hand, of course). The fog that had been creeping around me became too thick, and I was sinking, so I had to climb. One, Two, Five steps, Climb, Higher, Higher and higher… Until I reached this point. Up here, I can finally see things clearly. Perhaps it’s time to bring out my old treasure chest of dreams again and return to my bright-eyed, wonderfully naive ambitions. Some of these outlines have faded and I can no longer read them, but there are quite a few other notes here that I can still read. This time, I’m sure I’ll do things right.