In the process of calling upon my drafts for a draft, I found that very few were fit for service. Either too clunky or obtuse, too thin or too thinly veiled, none of them were right or ripe for picking...
As the Goldilocks of my own words, I decided to instead draft something anew.
Its freshness earned favor in my eyes, and so I hit "publish."
There's a chance in the future, I'll take a second look and think, "How did that one make the cut?"
I’ve heard it said that ignorance is bliss, though never thought it myself; in weakness perhaps a flutter at most.
Curiosity indeed killed the cat, I’ve seen it firsthand. I suspect to meet a similar fate. My feline nature is the greatest predictor (distrustful of strangers, yet overwhelmed by the ‘what if’…)
Knowing, to me, is always more attractive than not knowing. It’s the excess of knowledge that is the problem. In the process of making space for more and more, we tend to fall apart. We’re equipped with only so much capacity…
Our yards become overgrown and askew. The simplicity of manicured idealism on the other side of the fence becomes alluring.
My hope is that the grass will grow long and untamed, and from there, I can shape it into something even more alluring than the low, straight-cut vision of my neighbors. Something that reflects all the things I’ve seen and learned, and teaches others that in order to present the world with something beautiful and unique, we must first allow ourselves to run wild.