05.07.2025. SATURDAY
13:31 pm
A leap of faith.
For some things, you just can’t be prepared. No matter how hard you try, no matter how many books you read, and no matter how many bolts you tighten down. If there is no plate on the other side, those bolts don’t actually hold anything down. The knowledge you gained from the books starts to leak, and the harder you push it down, the more mush you are left with.
You guessed it, that’s where I started, with all those books and bolts; and now, here I am with all this mush sloshing around in my subconsciousness, blocking my pathways. It feels like the closer you are, and the more real it becomes, in a way, the more surreal it becomes as well. I just cannot wrap my mind about what is about to happen.
And the happiest moments are those that need no knowledge, no skill. When your mom lays to sleep, and I lay next to her with my hand pressed against you. As she drifts away, you start kicking against my knuckles; that pure moment, with just you and me, hanging out.
That is a leap of faith.
To walk is to stumble, and to crawl means never getting there. But a leap launches you in the air. Soaring. To the wind it means little if your shoelace is untied, it means little if you are upside-down, it embraces you just as well. It sings in your ears, and you let go. With the sounds of its relentless momentum, you know you are relentless as well. Because the wind doesn’t sing to you, it sings because of you.
That is a leap of faith.