A blank slate to start over week to week. I am here often.
I look at the fading steps behind me, and glance at the shadows ahead.
I wonder if I am too cautious, too indecisive, too inactive.
Irresponsible, impatient, ungrateful, selfish.
I push and pull on what’s best.
I want to do, yet don’t.
What do I want?
There’s no answer.
Because when has there ever been?
Make the best of it.
…
Tomorrow will be another blank slate.