The Question

It’s like an addiction, treading that fine line.

It’s like another time, long long ago.

I remember my youth, days of the rebel child who didn’t give a damn, until she was slowly shelved away and a new persona emerged, one who gave a shit about responsibility and following the rules, and being the general all-round nice person.

It seems to have worked because no one remembers that rebel child.

But once in awhile she comes out to play, triggered by certain events and it’s like déjà vu, watching the sequence of events. I’m like a spectator on the sidelines, watching her wiles and ways, and perhaps, a part of me loves the I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude, the freedom, the wildness within. She follows her feelings, without taking in consequences, she is a creature of passion and instinct.

At what point should life be lived in the moment?

It is a question I struggle with. I believe in taking life as it comes, and seizing the day, but sometimes the repercussions of doing things without thinking first cannot be ignored.

Perhaps I no longer want to debate the rights and wrongs.

Just live.