Once my gut told me to stop and my brain told me to go. My heart said nothing, it was beating too fast to give impressions. A few moments later I was sliding on the asphalt. Close but no cigar. Cycling always gave me a rough ride. 

What are you in it for?

What are you in it for?

What takes you there?  What makes you smile?  What's your purpose?  

You came back?  Why?  For someone?  Yourself?  

You don't know.  

But then these words someone told you echo: "You left your family, your friends, your freedom."  Freedom as, those activities that set you free.  That can be anything, I wish for you it's everything.

People keep asking "Why?" - "Haven't you had enough?"

Now your puzzled.  It's a mix in your head.  You'd love to have that straight obvious answer you could just throw at people.  

It never comes to mind.  You can't find the words.  It's what you wanted, but...

What if it was not actually it, but only the idea of it?

People dream of being celebrities.  But they don't dream of the hard work it takes, the nuisance it can be, the public exposition, and the need to constantly excel.  No. 

They fancy the idea.

People want to be perfect.  A perfect height.  A perfect size.  A perfect face.  A perfect mind.

But are they in for what comes with it?   Of course not.    

We fancy the idea of things.  And industries are built on this.  

A perfect lie.


I think I fancied the idea.

Thus, did I lie to myself? 

Being a Regular

Being a Regular

Free Until You Decide

Free Until You Decide