The young person thinks he can do it, before he does it.
The experienced person doubts he can do it, before he does it.
The confident person does it without caring whether he can do it.
The young person thinks he can do it, before he does it.
The experienced person doubts he can do it, before he does it.
The confident person does it without caring whether he can do it.
I did not keep quiet, I did not keep the peace.
I did not do as I was told, I did not keep in the dark.
I did not stay within the lines, I did not end on time.
I did not behave, I did not hew to the sound and safe.
I did not live your life. I took what was mine.
When they open, sometimes they are like light, searing revelations bathing us, purifying all who seek them.
But more often the doors to truth are cloaked in rot, ugly from both near and far. In the distance, you can try to ignore them, but like a repugnant insect on a white wall, small enough to be disregarded for a time, once seen, they are impossible to forget.
Creeping on the edge of your consciousness until you address, accept, and cross through them.