Impossible — like
it suggests, does not exist;
we are limitless.
I’m thinking about boundaries right now – our boundaries, the ones that we set for ourselves, inadvertently constraining our own limits. I know for a fact it’s possible to achieve the things I would like to achieve, but things sometimes get in the way. Does that constitute failure? I have to tell myself not, because there is nothing to stop me from trying again – or rather, from continuing my journey unruffled by what I might perceive to be a setback. The guy in that picture? I’d love for that to be me. I’d like nothing more than to experience that wave, to wake up and walk out on that sand, among those palm trees, and to know that I would get out there and carve up some jade wavage.
I know I have no extents, I just have to keep reminding myself that I am limitless, that I have the ability and that I will succeed, because dropping my guard may mean an automatic return to the muggle existence of “I can’t, I must, I’m stuck.”
That will be me, paddling out and riding down the face of a carnival glass curl, mark my words.