Twenty-four days. It’s so interesting to me the way time works. If I told you that you had twenty-four days to live, you would probably be devastated. “24 days? I don’t have much time left.” But then again, if I said that you have to live in a glass box with no access to the outside world for twenty-four days, it would seem like an eternity. “24 days? I don’t think I can do this for that long.” Well, I have that same strange perception of time right now.
For me twenty-four is the number of days standing between myself and my future. It’s both short and yet still so distant because I am less than four weeks from pure, blissful freedom. Not the kind that schoolkids dream of while waiting for summer break. Not freedom to do nothing, but rather freedom to do what I love: Music. Even still, that’s twenty-four days of fighting, pushing, getting through the daily grind.
In the meantime I am making the most of my time. Preparing, learning, living, but always daydreaming. Maybe pursuing the only calling that has ever felt like home will not be what I hope. Maybe a dark road lies ahead. Maybe that road never ends for me. But then again, so what? I can’t second guess my dreams because the second I do that, I accept mediocrity. I accept a life that I am not meant to lead.
So what if these twenty-four days are easier, more hopeful, and brighter than the next? All I know is that in four short/long weeks, I will be on my way: a guitar in my hand, lyrics on my tongue, and music in my heart.
So bring it on, future.