Life goes on. There’s always that waiting…. the waiting for something better to come. Sometimes it comes disguised, and so makes the decision harder.
I’m done talking, I think. Everywhere I look, the signs are pointing fairly clearly to where I need to go. It’s the inertia that gets to me. I’d rather stay here, I’d rather stay the same, where the risks are non existent. But then, what kind of life would I be living?
Letting go is hard to do.