Concrete and Water




They said,
As a child,
That if you held your eyes crossed too long
They'd stay that way

(But that never happened.)

So I wonder

Why,
As an adult,
Do I feel like my future is
Wet cement
About to dry?

I wrote this poem at work today, approximately 3 hours before I put in my resignation.

I turn 27 in a week. I know 27 isn't 30, and 30 isn't 50, and 50 isn't really that old, but somehow it feels like my life is just flying by. And it feels as if somehow, in the past few years of merely pursuing the next paycheck, I've missed the life I was made for. Somehow, at 27, I'm still waiting for my real life to start.

So I’m choosing to start it now.

More to come soon :)

--JD

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