(no subject)
"Young as she is, the stuff
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage."
I carry a burden. A thought that haunts my actions, popping up in places both unexpected and inconvenient. An idea that invalidates my excuses and gives others a pre-conceived notion that I seek to expunge. My burden is a heavy suitcase, filled with the overwhelming weight of potential. The suitcase is filled with many types of potential, but all of it is heavy stuff. Jostling movements of life have mixed it together, leaving me with a giant mass filled with accomplishments and forgotten ideas alike.
Some of it is sharp and cuts through standardized tests and extra-curriculars, aiding me in my accomplishments. Valuable like a glinting metal, and intimidating enough to change the way others see me, this sort of potential edges into my dreams and forces their resolution, like a knife to my throat. Without the dangerous driving force that is my potential, I might not be capable of finding the inner strength needed to be a success. Potential is the secret weapon in my arsenal of being.
The real weight and substance in my suitcase of potential is lazy and wasted; the remains of what could have been. It oozes through the cracks like slime, leaving a visible trail on the otherwise spotless exterior, a reminder of forgotten efforts, procrastination, and wasted time. It covers the sharp potential, dulling its force and changing its appearance. This potential is lost, and won’t ever be recovered, even though its remains plague my existence and its weight hinders my advancements.
A suitcase full of potential is my most powerful piece of cargo and my heaviest burden in the journey through life. The weight has given me the strength to pursue my dreams and evaluate my failures. Potential is the foundation for the shape of my existence and the successes of my future. My guiding light and my ball and chain. As I grow and change, the contents of my suitcase do as well, reflecting the person I have the potential to become.
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage."
I carry a burden. A thought that haunts my actions, popping up in places both unexpected and inconvenient. An idea that invalidates my excuses and gives others a pre-conceived notion that I seek to expunge. My burden is a heavy suitcase, filled with the overwhelming weight of potential. The suitcase is filled with many types of potential, but all of it is heavy stuff. Jostling movements of life have mixed it together, leaving me with a giant mass filled with accomplishments and forgotten ideas alike.
Some of it is sharp and cuts through standardized tests and extra-curriculars, aiding me in my accomplishments. Valuable like a glinting metal, and intimidating enough to change the way others see me, this sort of potential edges into my dreams and forces their resolution, like a knife to my throat. Without the dangerous driving force that is my potential, I might not be capable of finding the inner strength needed to be a success. Potential is the secret weapon in my arsenal of being.
The real weight and substance in my suitcase of potential is lazy and wasted; the remains of what could have been. It oozes through the cracks like slime, leaving a visible trail on the otherwise spotless exterior, a reminder of forgotten efforts, procrastination, and wasted time. It covers the sharp potential, dulling its force and changing its appearance. This potential is lost, and won’t ever be recovered, even though its remains plague my existence and its weight hinders my advancements.
A suitcase full of potential is my most powerful piece of cargo and my heaviest burden in the journey through life. The weight has given me the strength to pursue my dreams and evaluate my failures. Potential is the foundation for the shape of my existence and the successes of my future. My guiding light and my ball and chain. As I grow and change, the contents of my suitcase do as well, reflecting the person I have the potential to become.