I run to my imagination to avoid my thoughts. Am I scared of them? Are they a fear? Should I confront my own thoughts? And what happens if I do? What if they change me? … and I no longer like who I’ve grown to be. Can I go back? Will I be as happy as I think I am now? Will I truly be happy?
Maybe that’s what life is about. Confronting fears and taking risks. Even when there is no way to verify the more likely outcome. Is making the wrong decision better then not making a decision at all? On one hand you live flat lined and boring always regreting not making the leap; on the other hand, knowing full well you made the wrong decision is no easier.
Fuck yolo, it scares the shit out of me.