Shoulders on The Canvas
I was just born, but I’m already too old. I came into the world pink and bloody and blinking in the harsh light. By the time I had mustered up the courage to open my I eyes fully I was a 6’4” Robinson Crusoe look-a-like, cast away in a modern adult life.
The seed of an idea has always lived within me but I could never let go of the log on which I floated, I could never let myself sink into the unknown depths below my feet and be baptised by the sea.
So now I let go, I sink, I drown, and I am born again. Sadly freedom is not so sweet. It leaves a bitter taste in the mouth when you stand up tall, push your shoulders back and get ready to step into a new life, only to realise that every skill you have acquired so far is at best useless, at worst completely contradictory to your beliefs.
This is so true. But I'm still holding onto the log. How did you muster up the courage?
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