Another post from my good buddy; life, love, and growing up.
“Ultimately what I’ve arrived at is this: I’m comfortable. It’s easier to complain than to improve, to tread instead of progress….Every time I’ve gone out on a limb in life, I’ve come back with armfuls of fruit.”
I’m a quarter of a revolution around the sun away from a quarter of a century years old, and I feel…quartered. Like I’m just setting up shop, being held hostage with amicable amenities. Just who my captors are and why I’m captive are topics of endless analysis and introspection. But I’ll spare you the blabbery in exchange for the reality.
When I first shipped off to college, I didn’t debate much on what to study. I briefly considered business, but for the most part I was set on studying English from the onset. It was what I was good at in school, so I figured I should stick to it. A couple of people tried to convince me not to, because what was I going to do with a Creative Writing degree? Write creatively?
But I spit in the face of pragmatism and kept right alongside the one thing that…
View original post 605 more words