I still cry about Cedric Diggory’s death and I probably always will.
DO YOU EVER SEE SOMETHING SO POORLY WRITTEN THAT YOU ACTUALLY REWRITE IT IN YOUR HEAD AS YOU’RE READING ALONG
History might be written by the old, but it’s made by the young. Just look at Thomas Jefferson, or Alexander the Great, or William Wallace, or Joan of Arc, or Beethoven, or Frederick Douglas, or Martin Luther King Jr. Young pioneers, all of them. Conquerors, artists, heroes. Martyrs.
That’s our destiny — to be the people who change the paradigm.
It causes me actual, real pain when I run into young people afraid of risks — afraid to strike out on their own because it ‘might not work out.’
Might not work out?
OF COURSE it won’t ‘work out’ at first. That’s part of the fun.
OK, maybe not fun, per se. But it’s part of the adventure.
What, we refuse to get on with our lives until we’re guaranteed safe passage and smooth travels? Well, I guess our lives will go unlived, because trust me, we will never be afforded such a guarantee.
When you’re young — particularly when you don’t yet have a family of your own — you can do anything. You can go anywhere. You can chase any dream. You can move across the country. You can work four jobs at once. You can live out of your car or under a bridge or in a tent. You can go all in. Swing for the fences. Toss up Hail Marys. Whatever overused sports metaphor you prefer — that’s what you can do.
You are untethered and unburdened. You are mobile. You can carve out your niche. You can make radical decisions. You can walk out on that ledge in pursuit of bigger things. You can take risks, because there isn’t that much at stake. Not yet, anyway.