I suspect that either my imagination created, long ago, images that kept me vaguely grasping for ideals based on belief systems or expectations consisting of confusing magic castles filled with hopes of grand fulfillment, illusions of rebellious independence and immutable acceptance combined.
Or perhaps said same imagination remained stunted by so many fears, wrapped in keeping me safe and "good", or at least the appearance of good, as an application of one's desire to not tempt the fates or anger the gods of my parents, or those that control superstition or judgement, and "the rules".
Either way, creating life from this point on, feels at once like a precarious, monumental labor of love, then at second glance, of delicacy, preciousness, and confusion.
Untangling the knots of life paths intricately entwined with age and practice, consistency and outsourced motivation.
Habits grown deep like wire fences swallowed by live trees continuing to grow.
Living the life one "should" after all, is an undoing and an awakening to creative forces of choice and awareness.
Who's to say whether I am capable, able.
Changing directions of a life set in motion supposes infinite challenge or questions.
Perhaps starting again for the millionth time, merely listening to the whisperings of my soul,
will at last be enough.
Perhaps the spiral of repeated steps indeed leads in new, upward directions.
With combined practice and pure acceptance, maybe, just maybe, I am actually creating not so accidentally, my "Should" life.