There is this fire that burns within me. For years, especially during my college years, where I started to acknowledge its existence. I know that each and every one of you have this feeling. Whether it’s going and playing your favorite sport or doing what you love to do; there’s always something. For me, it’s manifest destiny. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Cliché. Fuck you.
I think Manifest Destiny isn’t something that we read about in textbooks. I think it’s real like magic. Do you see what I did there? I think the whole notion of going west is so deeply engraved within our DNA, that it’s the only way the fire stops burning inside of me. I’ve been stagnant recently. I’ve just sat here in the middle of North America, desperately hoping some miracle is bestowed upon me. But we’re adults here and both of us know better. Nothing falls JUST falls into your lap. My whole philosophy on it is easy, You Must Give To Get.
I’m going to do something crazy. I’ve known my whole life that I’m a unique and charismatic individual. I was always the class clown BUT everyone enjoyed and hoped to be in class with me because I actually entertained people. Not those lame douchebags that cracked really lame jokes. My stuff was organic and comical. I know this. I believe this. You believe this. We both believe this.
23 is such a magically strange year. The realization of me being a statistic for the rest of my life was hard to conceptualize. The realization that I have to go and actually consciously decide what I want in my life was hard to conceptualize. The fact that I have to go and seize the moment, the day, the opportunity was hard to conceptualize. But now, I got it. And I get it. And I will keep getting it. Because I learn through empiricism. I don’t listen to the shit people tell me until I’ve seen it or experienced it. I find this method to be the most effective when it comes to dictating if I’m a good or bad person. I judge the way situations make me feel. And not only my intuition but my actual fucking gut is telling me to go west. Because here in the Midwest, dreams die. This place traps you. And you only realize it did when you’re sitting in your deathbed. I’m 23, this is a magical year, and in this magical time, I’m going to carpe diem the fuck out of things. Here I go.
