When he came along.

Thank you to the black color Kawasaki bike rider who decided to ride by my house and turn at the corner.

You will never be aware of this but at the moment you decided to cruise on down by my house, there was a young woman who despite her early morning and quick jog, was still feeling the blues from the late night before. She was, at the moment, curl up in a fetal position in her bed, hugging close her only source of comfort, her old raggedy teddy bear, not having the motivation to get up to get her day started, to even eat.

She was feeling sorry for herself, overthinking and bullshitting herself into believing that she will never amount to do anything. Never make her dreams come true, and she felt ugly. She was telling herself, no wonder why no one wanted to date her, she was UGLY. Unattractive, and no man would want her, she was lucky to be in a relationship, but like anything else she did, she told herself, it turn to shit, and everything else would turn to shit that she tried and that just for the moment she was fooling herself into believing that she was doing anything worthwhile to her life.

This and a million other negative thoughts were going through her mind.
Then she heard the sound of the engine, it cut through her, and in that moment, she had to see it.

To see something so beautiful, so full of meaning to her. It brought her out of her slump. (And yes I am referring to myself in the third person haha.)

It brought her out, because cruising by, she didn't just see a guy on a motorcycle turning the corner. She saw her freedom in the way he lean towards the corner. She her independence, her confidence, riding on the seat. How if she could learn to do that, she could be beautiful in the sense of not only fully trusting herself to be able to do anything, but also confident enough to take on the world.

It was a promise she made to herself, not to be scared of anything. To fulfill her potential, and to not keep her desires a secret anymore. It was more about her being herself, than just the fact that the rider might be cute. It was about a hobby, and a form of self expression to the world, not that she was a badass for doing this, she didn't think of herself that way (really she didn't.) It was just her, she wanted to know. She wanted to ride, she wanted to be more of herself, and find herself and her self-actualizations through her metal wet dream, her future in form of a motorcycle. It was about herself. About doing things she only dream of, of making herself happy, make her dreams, her reality, and not letting anyone telling her that she couldn't (he was such an idiot in that sense for telling her own limits to her) and not letting herself stop herself.

About being knowing herself enough to be able to reach her potential, and not stopping herself from it. Not anymore. Just doing it. Dong it and lettin og, and looking forward to the days when she has her licence in her wallet and knows that she did it and be proud of herself, just the way she feels when she's writing and knows that she has 2 books done, safely stored in her email and her computer. Her work. Her dreams. Her potential. Her self-worth. Not proving anything to anyone, but doing it for herself, and that's what brought her out of her sadness. The vision of her fuel-injected suicide machine in all it's beauty and her accomplishments behind it, and behind her, giving her hope. Giving her happiness. Giving her the chance to know herself and live life like she wants to, because that's what it is all about.

So thank you to the black kawasaki rider, even though you'll never know. Thank you, for reminding me to not 'carry the world upon my shoulders', to actually lived. Life's too short and I have self-actualizations to realized, dreams to make realities, places to travel, ambitions to meet, and above all, people to love and appreciate because they love me back and I don't ask for it.

I will not chase my dreams. My dreams will have to chase me to keep up.