Twenty seven is a crossroad; a point where you have to make a choice. Where you have to decide what to hold on to, and what to let go of. What to keep pursuing, and what to settle for. It’s a conclusion; that some things will never change, and plot your next course of action.
Twenty seven is exhaustion; a state where you’re done feeding energy into things that are draining it. It’s the tipping point, and you have no more quarters to give. It’s the height of tolerance, where you’ve taken all you can take, and decide to do something about it.
Twenty seven is invisibility; being a literal ghost with the power to effect change without being seen. It’s a conundrum; when you’re able to do so much without leaving your own mark, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
Twenty seven is freedom; choosing who or what you’re obligated to. It’s a temptation; to become the first kite that flew high without a string. Could the thought of devotion to another outweigh the addiction of solitude enjoyed for so long?
Twenty seven is awkward; when you realize all your faults and weaknesses have somehow had a hand in bringing you here; with every dodge, reluctance and wall put up carving a path to the greatness being experienced. It’s weird, when you’re not sure on whether to work on them, or own them, because they have made you who you are.
Twenty seven is boarding up windows for hurricanes. Twenty seven is coming out to play when the sun’s out. Twenty seven is lowering one wall and putting up three.
Twenty seven is me.