What exactly are you waiting for? What, exactly. What giant, unmovable object is standing in your pa
What exactly are you waiting for? What, exactly. What giant, unmovable object is standing in your path, that you can’t just walk around? What holds you, grabs your suspenders and turns you into a comic strip, striving away only to be pulled back. You want it. That much is clear. That’s why you’re here, reading the words. That’s why the thrill runs down your spine when I get the measure of you, dress you down with a paragraph that wasn’t even aimed in your direction. You want it, and yet you deny, you fret, and you dally. You hover in the doorway, and you try to justify your procrastination with the way that life sits right now. The way that everything hasn’t cosmically aligned into a situation where you’re exactly where you want to be, with none of the journey in between. Take a step, for fuck’s sake. Move forward. Head down that road and don’t just wait for it all to work out in the end. The clue is in the idiom, nestled in deep where you’re not even looking. Work out. Work. Toil, sweat, a kind of home that you have to build on the sand, regardless of the consequences. You need to live out of your comfort zone for a while, and then get comfortable. Push yourself, before I do it for you. You’ll be far more gentle with yourself than I will. -- source link
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