I encounter hundreds of strangers every day… as it turns out, by the nature of my work, most of the people I meet are those who are sitting around, waiting for something…
…waiting for something to arrive. Waiting for that check for “a million dollars”. Waiting for some good news. Waiting for something… anything… to give them a jolt from the mundane, something to make them FEEL.
Concerning the man at 1246 Carousel Drive – there was a certain air of surrender about him.
Sometimes I think I can read a whole person’s life in the few tones they utter during the space of “thank you, have a good day”.
(horribly presumptuous of me, I know…)
He was a sad man. His face told volumes of doldrum tales…
You know what I’m afraid of?
I’m afraid of becoming like that guy who, one day, wakes up in the last half of his life, surrounded by a bunch of people and stuff that he’s accumulated… and thinks…
“my God, I don’t really like any of this. How did I get here?”
…and even sadder, realizes… that he’s not getting out.
I just want to be free. I want my life and heart to always be unencumbered. I want to always be moving forward, always on the bleeding edge of discovery, always knowing that my greatest moment of brilliance is just around the corner.
If I ever die, I want to be young at heart on that day.