Time. Time means nothing to me. I used to be ruled by it. But now I just laugh about it. I laugh about a lot of things I once held dear. I once believed. I was a prisoner to time. But not anymore.
Age. I’m nearing forty and I could not care less. It’s just a number, much like time, created to bind us. Keep us bound. To what? Everything. And essentially nothing. Just because one has gotten older doesn’t mean they are any less than they were before. In fact, it just might mean than are more. More than ever before.
Tradition. Why do we feel the need to follow tradition? To belong to something? To be connected to others? To a situation? Of course. We possess the ability to think for ourselves, yet we follow things. Quite blindly at times. I am very guilty of this. But breaking…
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