entry 1: the table
It’s February 5th.
By now, you’ve met so many versions of me. Versions, still to this date, continue to unfold over the course of my life. Some versions, I no longer share a table with.
Versions that can’t share the same seat.
I sat with them all.
Perfectionism put me in the hot seat until I realized the comfort of progress.
I reserved a seat for competition only to realize I enjoy the company of collaboration.
I was hungry when I met motivation, only to realize I starve without discipline.
I had a bite of pleasure, only to realize nothing is as tasteful without purpose.
Sitting with the people I once was only made it clear that I’m bound to lose an appetite for what no longer serves me, and I’m okay with that, knowing that with growth, nothing is off the table.