I wasn’t sure how to describe my feeling until Nacho threw out an adjective “vulnerable”.
“Vulnerable” – vulnerable like an abandoned child standing by herself in the middle of the street, clothes stripped into pieces that covers the barely existing dignity.
I thought about my tattoo, saying “let the discipline be your mentor.”
It wasn’t something to regret.
I have not given up yet.
It’s like an egg sitting in a heating water. You never know if the water is meant to boil at the end or providing the warmth like hatching.
It’s the pot of water an egg is sitting in; it’s the ambiguity of being hopeful and hopeless at the same time.
It’s up to you.