Yet again

Schmuckoo: Dude!

The Muddled Dweeb: Leave me alone.

Schmuckoo: Dude!

The Muddled Dweeb: Please man. I am sabaw (read: excess supply of cerebrospinal fluid) as of the moment. Please refrain from having small conversations with me or else…

Schmuckoo: Hey, chill! Sabaw is good, you know.

The Muddled Dweeb: *slowly lightens up* Oh yes. Absolutely! If it were not for sheer sabaw-ness, human civilization, as we all know it, would have long fallen into apocalypse.

Schmuckoo: Precisely, man. 

The Muddled Dweeb: Cheers!

Schmuckoo: Cheers!

Twenty years of existence, succinctly put

I wish I had a time machine that will carry me back to the days when we take things at face value, trusting our instinct, just taking the plunge, screwing what the consequences of our actions maybe.

I thought when I get older, things will be easier.

That the breadth and depth of experience will be enough to guide my decision-making, facilitate sorting through choices, be the beacon to lead me as I swim across oceans of options.

But in the end, lessons learned, either vicariously or for real, just muddle things up.

Suddenly, the list of pros and cons becomes kilometric.

My mental filing cabinets switch to hyperdrive and the dossiers fly from where they’ve gathered cobwebs, forming a harmonious disarray in my head.

Let’s not even delve into my heart’s emotional storage bins.

It feels so right yet I hesitate.

I hesitate because it feels so right.

What seemed to be easy is just darn complicated.