Rash

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I miss making rash decisions. I was so good at making them and the best part was I did not care about the consequences. I would love to be able to go back to this. I loved a good bridge burning. I would never feel bad about it either. What happened?

Is this part of the aging process? If so, this stinks. I hate having to weigh the pros and cons. I liked the air of whatever-ness that I once embodied. There is nothing more pathetic than an old person who makes bad choices, but a rash decision doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. Sure, like ninety nine percent of the time it is, but it is also so freeing.

I feel so restrained now. It’s boring. Making extremely poor life choices was once my version of extreme sports, a daring hobby, one might say. Now I’m just obsolete and cautious. I wish I could just tell people to fuck off like it was nothing, that was so my thing and I was really good at it. It was always done with zest and genuine disdain.

I guess now I wait, not sure for what, but wait is what I do.

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