Perpendicular patterns march above as I stare at our white suspended ceiling. The yellow iridescence from a cheap light shines outward, not bright, not dim. I look down. I see the cheap painted white wood paneling, a fern and two plants I do not recognize. Weird pictures hang on the wall, once jokes but now fixtures in this place.
I sigh.
Can I let nostalgia creep in and not destroy myself? I have had some bad times, but they were mixed with such beautiful experiences. I yearn for that greatness even if it comes with such pain. For life is meant for living.
As Pia used to say, "You'll never be free, Brian, until you let go of all fear."
I think I finally understand what she meant. What is there to fear? We all die. Well all have one life. For what is life if we do not expose it to all the risks for the sake of life.
I want to run faster. I want to fall on my knees, unable to breathe, gasping for one breath of air. I want to push it to the very limit and test it, always.
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