For The Record.


I was told that I don’t belong here.

I was told that my skin color would be a defining attribute to who I am suppose to be.

I was told to choose a simpler job because it had financial security.

My dreams were just dreams, I should drop them.

Travel is for the rich, the world matters not if it does not provide.

Comfort and routine are the best of friends and should be you’re only friends in this world.

Ignore the urges that make you, you. Working 9-5, dinner, and sleep should matter more.

Some people were built for such things.

Some were forced to it.

I wasn’t.

But the pressures of this world are forcing my hand.

The 9-5 I once despised sounds like the cool wind blowing in the beach.

The routine I so hate is beginning to feel like paradise.

This is wrong.

So I shall sweat, I shall be bloodied, I shall be sore, exhausted and mentally insane.

I shall be more than what’s expected from me.

I shall be less than what’s assumed of me.

Wake from the slumber of routine and be witness to the visuals before your eyes.

From the concrete buildings, to the suburban homes.

From the the Deepest forests to the most humble farms.

WE WERE NOT BUILT TO SIT IN FRONT OF A DESK.

We were built for so much more.

I walk through this tunnel, knowing that there’s an end to it. An opening to the other side. What awaits for me is now a mystery… And I consider that a victory.

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