I’ve done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing

What if?

I’m starting to loathe those two inquisitive syllables. They are enough to drive a person completely fucking insane.

I can’t help contemplate the infinite paths that my life could have taken. But in turn I get really, really pissed off about that. Because what’s the point? A man can ask “what if” until he’s blue in the face and all he’s really done is waste that bit of his life instead of getting the fuck on with it.

And it’s not that I want to change anything. For the first time … ever really … I think I can honestly say that I am rather happy with the way things are going with my life. I’m just an overanalytical bastard. Ask Lucy sometime. Deciding where to go for lunch or dinner is a chore with me.

I’m glad that I do have that part of me – it’s kept me from the more impetuous impulses I’ve seen in others my age. But sometimes I just want to turn the switch and just soak it all in.

What if that’s not possible?



~ by J on October 14, 2008.

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