From The Road
Letters To
The Horizon
Not travel logs. A collection of places, thoughts and fragments gathered while walking toward somewhere that keeps moving.
Players and Watchers
Do not spend your time fantasising, Create the life you wish to lead, The alternate choice is to be painfully comfortable, stagnant in your own filf. Awaiting death, Leaking tears of insincerity for you mourn the life you didn't have the courage to create. All ages have had wise men, great men, and cowards. The class is always full. Do not concern yourself with the classes that have graduated before you. Consuming their winners and losers and drawing judgement. For the watcher has already lost. Remember this they are players and watchers and it is always [better] to be the worst player on the pitch, than the best watcher in the crowd. Life is made to be played, The game is serious it is one of life and death, It costs everything and promises nothing.
Climbing to a dream
I’ll tell you my dreams, When I was young I wanted to be rich, I guess I always associated a certain level of freedom with wealth, I wanted to travel the world. Now today I just want to mean something to someone so I dream of again travelling these people in this country they dont need me, over here we create our own problems because life is too easy, all that is left for us is to climb ranked. Enjoy the benefits of a higher rank and live as such. I need to see the world, if im going to die I would like to know where I lived, who are the people who just like me were born into a circumstance and how do they take it, what do they need, what will help them and do they need my help. Can I do anything for them? This is my dream to answer these questions.
The Domed Cage
I am currently sat in the Central Library of Manchester. I must say I am amazed; the dome has such a power. It is close to silent, filled with students of all ethnic backgrounds, all working in harmony towards one thing: a better them. Surprisingly, I am beginning to feel old in here. Not aged, but old, knowing many of them have just entered the life of an adult, and at this point, I have lived it for a decade. I am excited for them. What will they learn? How will they develop? Who will they be? This could be a good time to think about purpose. The reason everyone here is locked in on their work is because they have a purpose in the current moment. Admirable. What is my purpose? Gone are the days of good grades and finding a good job. I have already accomplished both. A position that one would have thought would bring copious amounts of joy and purpose - yet, to the fault of myself, this doesn't align with who I want to be in the present. Thankfully, I have the power to bend this reality to my will. All it takes is courage. One does not abandon his food without knowing where to hunt his next meal. First, I must scope out the land. For now, I feel as though I am done in the library. I will sign this off, go downstairs, and read my book a little bit before heading home. I'll take my time on this long walk.
The Weight of the Uncarved
The mind is a chaotic country. It mutters, it doubts, it fabricates a thousand reasons to lie still. When I cannot control the direction of my thoughts, I return to the iron. The weight does not bargain. It does not care about my potential, my upbringing, or my inner genius. It simply demands. If the world will not yet respect my words, it will respect my frame. The burden of malleability is exhausting, shifting shapes to match whatever room I walk into. I wish to be solid. Every rep is a strike against the soft, complacent version of me that wants to settle for a comfortable mediocrity. Let the mind scream. The body will execute. We are building an armor here, not just for the flesh, but for the spirit residing within.
The Beginning
So where better to start than now. As of right now I am not feeling like I am living my life. My true life. My destiny still awaits but at my trajectory I'm afraid I may miss it. As a person I am not who I should be and I'm aware of this. My faith in people is small. I rarely feel the warmth of love. I create an illusion of who I am instead of being who I should be. To put it frank — I am a fraud. I don't know when it started. I try to find a specific time in my life where it first began. When I was 14 I had my walls so high up I had built an entire fiction around myself, because I did not want to accept the truth. I just wanted to be accepted. There is a quote I like from St Augustine. "The good though he is a slave, he is a slave to being good, whereas the wicked though he is a king, is a slave. For he serves, not one man alone but as many masters as he has vices." I apply this to my life. I have my vices and they all come with a cost. A disguised cost, hidden in appeal. The never ending game of decisions. Good ones and bad, always awaiting your next move. I try to withhold from my vices but I fail. I am now a slave to them. I must find what type of life brings fulfilment, love and peace. For life requires balance as any man would know, and one without will be wasted. I will study myself across these lines: Health. Relationships. Confidence. Altruism. Social status. Appearance. Habits and vices. Emotional intelligence. Mannerisms and language. Who am I and how am I.