Somewhere between putting the Kindle down and trying to dial down the yawning abyss enough to close my eyes for the night, I caught up with myself.

I’m not special.

I’m not a Gifted And Talented Man Of A Certain Age.

Instead, I’m someone so afraid of failure and frozen into immobility that I passed up opportunities life had been handing me.

Because I didn’t see a clear path to success for those opportunities.

Couldn’t picture a world where I didn’t fuck it all up.

Wasn’t able to see that it’s not about the mountaintop, it’s about the walk.

I’d call it a journey, but right now, I can’t.

For now, today, it’s just a walk.

Journeys are for The Specials.

Those mythical creatures that can get out of their own way.

And life just plots a course for them.

It was freeing, to know this about myself.

To know that I have nothing to live up to.

No expectations unmet.

I’m a beginner, and I’m not late.

This is where I start.

Not to be special.

Just to be.