I suppose there really is no way, or perfectly sane reason, for us to beat around the bush. The clock is ticking and that hungry crocodile - or was it an alligator? - will come for us soon. The thing is, lists exist not as a metaphor for something larger than life, instead, it exists to remind us to act. Soon. The grocery could run out of coffee, we can never tell. Not even when. So if you ask me why, now I know how I am going to go about it.
I may have a broken spirit, a broken life, I may be a walking conundrum, a breathing void. I may have chosen wrongly, if you may - probably done nothing at all - but, I will say what I need to say before the smoke blows through the keyhole. That is a promise I intend to keep. I probably will try faith as well. I do not want another year of regrets. That book, I believe, is filled to the brim.
It's glass half full from hereon out.
