Sipping my morning coffee, I gaze out across the the affluent streets of Double Bay.
A Lamborghini rolls past. Its eloquent grace interrupted momentarily by a roar of self-indulgence.
I take another sip, turn my eyes to the deep blue sky through the window to my left and breathe in the day’s Autumn splendour.
I wondered this past weekend, amid the challenges that sickness presented, what the future would hold.
Binge watching financial drama on Netflix, the victorious lure of material wealth seemed inevitable.
Cue cash-flow projections and budget analyses. Just as in London, saving here seems impossible.
Part of me wishes I’d played my cards differently since leaving school early seven years ago. Entry level salary brackets now a distant memory for some. For me, not so much.
I do feel behind the eight ball. I do feel as though I should be in a different stage of life right now. And yet, as my girlfriend reminds me, I am still only twenty-three… It feels like I’ve been fighting these battles for so much longer.
How much longer will these battles endure? The battles that separate me from the day I can slip into my own Lamborghini en route to my beach house and morning surf? Before continuing to write the day away just as I am now?
Because that’s all I really want to do: Write, philosophise – change the world.
Simple stuff really.
I’d give up the dreams I have for those material things in a heart beat if I could just have the latter.
That’s where real fulfilment lies, at least it is for me.
It is no longer a matter of asking myself, ‘Where do I start?’, for of course the journey has long since begun. My destination, my goal, my dream, draws ever nearer.
Prayer. Patience. Persistence.