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A friendly conversation has left me devastated. I am thrown off and into a deep pit of wreckage. I’m left for dead after a blow to the head. A death sentence given from a man holding no intent to harm. My friend, wishing me well and asking about my future.

“Where do you see yourself in two years?” he asked.

I can’t shake it. I’m also confused by being stunted, for the future has always been my light and motivation to continue. I don’t know the reason the idea haunts me so.

“Let’s start with six months,” said the friend.

Less pressure, and I was able to answer, “Continuing to do what I’m doing now. Because I’m progressive and satisfied – enjoying myself. Doing what I want. No worries about what’s to come. I’m in the now and happy with it.”

Thinking back on my words, I hear nothing but rephrasing. The same sentence restructured with alternative nouns and verbs. I also hear justification for my satisfaction. Why would I have to justify that? To whom?

To me. Because I was never one who was comfortable or proud of what I do in the present. There’s always more. There’s always something – a way, a word, an interaction, an end result – better.

My fear, then, is not going after the better me in six months or two years from now. I’ve given up on growing. Yet, that can’t be. I’m comfortable with becoming more, at whatever pace Pace is running. I think the idea of not running the pace, and having no control over the outcomes of events, is what’s bothering me.

Two years from now, will I be wondering what I’ve done wrong? No. Where I’ve gone wrong? No. I’m not one for regrets. Will I have accomplished my goals? What are my goals? Become an artist with a larger audience? Know how to sustain the kind of happiness that comes from interaction with loved ones (friends, family, significant other)?

I wonder, in two years, if I will be performing actions of which I’m currently unaware. To fly. To fight. To accept.

I may be dead. I may have a death sentence. I may be healthier. I may continue to challenge the human limitations of this world. Do those limitations involve the laws of physics, an organized society, or the spirit in the body?

How about I restart everything, create a slew of universes, admit I’m God, and accept those who worship and deny me?

At least I’d be entertaining an idea other than Star Wars.

[Dedicated to Crazy Joe.]
Dan Jones

Author Dan Jones

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