The only person I am hurting in this life is myself. Not my mother, not my father, not my friends or other relatives. My choices in life dictate my life and no one else’s. Shall I sit inside in silence? Shall I go enjoy nature and all of its works? Shall I get a dead-end job? Or shall I find myself a career? While I sit here and ponder those questions, I am hurting myself. Ninety-seven and onward, I exist but still have made no etch in the fabric of our time. I am more of a speck. As time is forever, I am temporary, yet I waste away thinking.
What do I want? What do I need? I shall waste away here until I plant that seed and grow with it and rise to the top of my time here in this universe. The miracle of life rises up and down and in and out of strife day by night, but still I lay wasting away wondering what can and may be. I am tired of hurting myself. I may not be hurting the people around me but I am definitely not helping them or myself until I take that first step.
(I hope this may be motivation to those of you who don’t know what they want to do in their life. It is perfectly fine to sit and ponder what you want to do here and what your purpose is but one day at some point we have to take that leap onto the next stepping stone of life until we cross the river.) ZM