We talked about becoming derailed today. About derailment as a temporary diversion. About derailment as fertile ground for
gaining new learning, new experiences.
About derailment as a means to an end.
Except in my world of black and white, moving forward and becoming
derailed are mutually exclusive.
Once upon a time, I believed in utopia. I believed in a perfect world inhabited by
perfect beings achieving perfect things.
Except in my world of darkness and light, reality is often far removed
from perfection.
I had many dreams growing up. Fanciful ones like winning the Nobel Prize or
becoming a farmer’s wife. Realistic ones
like going to college, earning my own keep, getting married. I invested myself into every dream I could
hope to achieve, found myself beaten down and derailed at many points. As if for every step I take to move forward,
I am forced to take two steps back.
“It’s just life”, I console myself.
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