A tall glass of…


It’s funny to observe the defence mechanisms of the mind. People wash their conscience by stamping the blame on the other, the rest of the world. Shift responsibility. Play it safe. Oh how easy it is for the ego when someone else mades a fool of themselves. However, the person averting whatever they think they might be getting into, they always know how things are, too. And it’s going to rot them. You can hide it from the rest of the world, but hello, you’ve got yourself to fall asleep with at night. Yourself that you have to convince.

Yeah, that show is all fine and dandy, but how about that hollow in your heart? How about the fact that you’re so scared of feeling alive that you’ve become complacent with mediocrity? Yet you admit that the only times you’ve truly felt alive were the times you did something your rational self tried to get you out of. Dared to risk, take responsibility, stand by your words and deeds.

And twenty years on you realise you let it all slip through your fingers. A life only half lived. Time fills the other half with regret and (self-)pity. There’s no excuse for not having (metaphorical – ed.) balls. As far as we’re concerned at this moment in life and time, we only live once. Pardon the cliché, but the only chances you can regret are the ones you didn’t take. Although I’m still considered fairly young, I have on several occasions come to this realisation retrospectively. Makes me want to bitch-slap myself and maybe even punch in the stomach.

But the question is: can you live with it? Pardon, half live.


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