As a child I would spend hours reading. Reading and sometimes writing, my imagination running wild. I would imagine all the things that I wanted to do or be when I was older. I wanted to be a football player, a traveller, Indiana Jones, going on adventures in far away lands. I’d read books and transport myself into them, I would live it, my small bedroom transformed into jungles with talking animals, fantasy worlds with hobbits. I could be anyone or do anything I wanted to be, there were so many paths open, my childish imagination believing everything is possible.
Years later sitting in a room, cold, tired, alone, so distant from the child that held all those hopes and dreams. I would say broken but that would be wrong. If I had been broken, I’d not have made the choice to change. If I hadn’t have made that choice would my life be different today? Of course, I may not even be still around. Would I have made the choice at a later time? Maybe, I don’t know. Do I regret they way I lived that led me to have to make that choice? No, not at all. I choose that path, nobody forced me into it, for all the misery there were happy times too, people that will stay with me forever, that still influence me. Some are gone, their paths branched away.
If I had not got on that plane where would my life gone? I have no idea. I was directionless, yet it wasn’t the only choice. I had been scared, petrified even of what lay ahead. I waited for the bus to arrive, one part of me saying I should go back home, the other saying get on the bus, go and live a new life, break away from everything you know. I got on the bus, a bus that lead to a life of adventure and discovery. If I had stayed, I probably would have found it anyway. It just would have taken a bit longer, a diversion, nothing to regret or waste time on. Those books I read as a child would have led me there, still locked away in my mind, ready to be opened at any time.
Sitting on a bus in some far away country I thought back to the teenager who had lost hope. The English teacher who had told him he couldn’t write, no matter what he did was wrong. The teacher that told him he wasn’t intelligent enough to study philosophy. That teenager who was no longer the child with limitless dreams, self confidence lost, not believing that anything could be achieved. I look back and smile, it took him a long time but he eventually found the right path. Those that didn’t believe proved wrong, but not proved wrong because of them, proved wrong because years later they helped to unlock the little boy again, coming out fighting, looking to pursue his dreams again.
So many twists and turns. So many different choices you have made and could have made. You look back and wonder what would’ve happened if you had taken another path, a different turn. Would it change the way life is today? Probably. That doesn’t mean that the route you have taken is wrong, it’s just different. When you are going somewhere and you know where that place is do you ever consider deviating from that path? No, because you know where you are going. If you are walking with no direction does it mean you are lost? No, you just have an infinite number of paths to take.