I took a walk down the empty road. I thought the silence would help me. My thoughts grew louder. Things I had repressed crept from the recess of my mind. They were troubling notions of my own existence. Is this the extent of my living? Haven’t I fought through this and that already? Haven’t I been blessed enough only to have my blessings slip from my hands? Thinking back a year, I could not have imagined how my life would change. I’d like to think that some people are excluded from the complete precariousness that is my life. I have this idea that other people have maps. They go through institutions. They climb the ladder. They put in the work and they’re somewhere better. Me, I’m staring up to the heavens, and I have to make a ladder out of thin air. Grab that from this. Grab this from that. The strange thing is I feel closer than ever to reaching something. I’m just scared to look down.

This question orbits my thoughts: when should I stop? I’ve debated this so many times that I’m bored of it. The answer seems plain. I don’t. I don’t until I die. I have this whole life to give. I have however many years I’ve been allotted to pursue this dream of mine. The concept of a glass ceiling terrifies me. You charge the sky with all your energy, and you just can’t break through. You see what you want so desperately, and you simply don’t have enough. You didn’t launch with enough umph.

My head’s in the clouds. I don’t want to be grounded. I pray don’t let me fall. I have this dream that I’m flying a plane into a gold sky. The clouds are canyons. I don’t know why this image brings me so much bliss.