There was a moment 4 years ago when I realized that the expected was out and the unknown was in. I have been living as a wanderer for years with no idea where I am going but knowing even if it is hard to believe that I can.
Now I’m getting closer to have to face the truth on whether I want to work or forge my own path and risk it all in spite of the potential to fail.
I’m in Bucharest with no idea what to do or where to go and while that isn’t always great it is amazing to have the freedom to pick up and wander at a moment’s notice even if you rarely use it.
I have to write the story but I don’t have it. I guess that means I have to write and ideate until I find the potential story’s it could be or at least live in a way that will inspire those stories.
This is my crutch that I have refused to work on and I just have to write it even if it’s bad, especially if it’s bad. That is the journey and the hope that it can be made a felt as if it were real.
I hope for a new day, a moment of belief despite myself, that I can stand for my truth even if no but me cares but that it matters and can mean something.