The truth is you will be blasted for your past indiscretions, crucified for your future ambitions, and ridiculed for the present package you entail. tomorrow isn't promised, & yesterday is concrete. Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero – "Seize the Day, putting as little trust as possible in the future" OTC
The girl who kissed bees,
Was forever meant to be
The Queen for all eternity…
Standing next to me…
You can always tell the difference between a lion captured in the wild and one born in captivity.
It’s in the eyes.
The lion born in captivity has a sleepy look in the eyes. It is content to lounge around its habitat waiting for the next steak the zoo keeper will toss it. It will sit there cleaning itself while the stream of nice visitors passes by pointing and gawking. The lion born into captivity will gently flick its tail and contemplate these creatures passing by the way a casual observer would stare at a hotdog stand. The lion born into captivity will play with its tire swing and pose for pictures with ease. So long as the lion is fed by the keepers it has no need to hunt for its food. Why waste the energy when it is simply served to them?
The lion born in the wild has a desperate fire in its eyes. It paces back and forth in the habitat growling at its confinement. Remembering the smell of the bush and the thrill of the chase it bats at the bars in resentment. It doesn’t want the keeper to toss in a steak. It wants the keeper to step inside the habitat. Just for a moment. It watches the strange animals pointing at it and licks its lips remembering the taste of fresh meat. The lion born in the wild doesn’t play with the tire swing. It would rather play with its kill before devouring the meal as is its custom. It would rather stalk its prey than pose for a picture of itself yawning. The lion born in the wild dreams of its freedom while it sleeps behind the bars of the cage.
You have to ask yourself which lion are you. Are you born in captivity? Idly sitting around waiting for your next steak to be served to you? Or are you born in the wild, yearning for the freedoms you knew before you were unceremoniously tossed into this habitat?
“All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is. Anything else is sentimental drivel. … Think about it. There’s escaping from the wolves, fighting the wolves, capturing the wolves, taming the wolves. Being thrown to the wolves, or throwing others to the wolves so the wolves will eat them instead of you. Running with the wolf pack. Turning into a wolf. Best of all, turning into the head wolf. No other decent stories exist.”