I am so so so so past the point of ambition, but ambition seems a condition, if not a disease of modern life. Finding inner tragedy is not realizing you are special, but just wanting to get noticed. The only attraction often a mirror reflective wannabe. The steps of life success take elbow grease, so if you aren’t totally sold on the product of your life going forward then don’t dwell on the fifty-fifty of what ifs in distant hills so green with trouble.
What ifs are often crossroads of life and my path not taken was of abandoning chance out of principle. Life might bring standard general life where no light is shining your chance for stardom and bright neon lights. This part of your life in boxes in the attic. You would not bend or give in and thought goodbye a ruse, but sadly it wasn’t. Could have been ended then and naturally there were new roads to follow.
Being stuck on a dream brings sadness it seems unless you’re willing to muck in its marrow. There is no consoling want we push past the boundaries that fail because of a lack of detail. Knowledge precludes the mistake again. Passing by was and pretend to get it right, but then regularities taken are but part and parcel. Personally, whatever follows never sees tomorrow.
So, yes there was a road in my past that might have made me more famous than Mae West. My metaphor underscores the problem a past of occurrence and wondering if is like an empty sack that once held messages of values and beliefs. A heavy sigh and relief for this day that is on a yellow brick road of tomorrows realizing a rainbow of ideas in the setting Sun. If you've begun to undertand this, the bless you. Please sneeze.