Unwritten

I thought my life was a closed book. A finished story, already written in stone.

Today my life is unwritten. I do not know what the future holds. Scared, curious, thoughtfull. Resentfull of my own stupid, stubborned ways. Why didnt I do this sooner? Why do I choose to "find" myself after someone has already taken the time to "find" me?

Because no one can "find" me. No one can DEfine me. My book, my life is unwritten. Only I can make my own path. The future has no script, no "set" ways.

I must live and let be. Let go and learn, because for once, I am unwritten.