Sometimes it’s not about doing the right thing, or the smart thing, or the proper thing. Sometimes it’s not about making the best choice or taking the safest route. Sometimes it’s just about making the memory. It’s about recognizing that that things might not go well and you might make a fool of yourself, but that’s okay. It’s about putting yourself out there, taking a chance, trying something new, because you can’t make memories by doing the same thing over and over. Nobody ever did anything commendable from the solitude of their own dormitory. Sometimes the dumbest decisions you make are the best ones.
I’m about making memories and taking life by the coattails. I refuse to remain stagnant and let moments pass me up because I never took the chance. I refuse to have my life story riddled with “almosts” in place of “definites.” When my life nears it’s end, I want to be able to say that I walked the courageous path, danced with the insane, and conquered the impossible. I want my headstone to bear the words, “She lived, utterly and implicitly.” For what value is there in a life not lived?