On New Year’s Day, I spent the better part of the morning reading through various posts about resolutions and dreams of the people around me. The type of optimism that is naked, and honest. And for the first time, I began to feel a little old. Now granted, I am well aware that I am far from old; still shockingly young at times. But the resolutions I were reading were from people who had finally begun to live a little, and were now reflecting on perhaps their own shortcomings. And to be able to squarely stare at yourself and honestly examine your faults is something that only happens with time.
Time is so important; vital even. It is what separates us from late to on-time. It gives us something to anticipate, and gives us time to heal. It stares at us from its perch with a mesmerizing march into our immediate future; with notes as if to sing quiet hymns about our past.
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greatmomentsinselfesteem posted this
