Good friends are hard to come by. You know the ones I mean. Friends who will tell you when you’re being a dumbass. I had a great conversation with a friend the other day about lots of philosophical stuff. He said something kind of mind-blowing.
I was whining about how I’m too wishy-washy to get a tattoo. He raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ve spent the last few years regretting not getting a tattoo. Why don’t you just get one?”

“Blah blah, hand-wringing,” was my response. I’ve paraphrased, of course.

He shook his head and said, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Pretending that your future self is real.”

What? My future self? Oh, you mean that dazzlingly pretty, put-together, tattooed, successful writer who lives in Tuscany? She’s not real?

Nope. Not real. Not going to be real until you actually take the steps to become her.
Whoa.

I feel like I had really started getting on track to become her when I was reading a lot, writing a lot, and reflecting on things. It’s time to stop making excuses and to stop tricking myself into thinking that I will suddenly become the future self I’ve imagined. It’s time to actually start being her!

Well, maybe that misses the point. Maybe I should be happy to be the self I am right now. Frankly, she’s a little bit of a slacker though.

Anyway, enough navel-gazing. Time to write.

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