I love un-spiced rum. It tends to make me reflective in a good way. Sometimes I envy people whose lives seem to have been filled with adventure and such. I feel they have really sucked the marrow from their time here and it shows. They have medals and memoirs and wrinkles and scars. They have stories and pictures of places and people most of us will never see.
But sometimes I realize that we all live amazing lives. Even trivial instances echo forever in our souls and make us who we are.
I never understood people who claim to live life like there was no tommrow. Its just not possible and that's ok, so why lie about it? I have made mistakes, some HUGE some (thankfully) less so. If I could go it again I'd change shit. But I really only have one full-on regret. The rest of my mistakes I look at this way:
I did the best I could. I made the choices I made with information I had and the feeling in my gut. I didn't know then what I know now, so why beat myself up about it? Just finding your way through life one day at a time is an acheivement worth note. Getting up and going out into the world is an adventure, because no matter what you're not quite sure how its going to end. That's why I always carry my passport and knife with me; you never know.
Life itself is an adventure.
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