I
stand on the edge of change, only to find it is not an edge.
The edge
is in my mind, my perception and fear of the different. The edge is
that which is out of pattern, out of the usual. It is only an edge
because I make it so, to protect myself from the effort and pain of
change, afraid that all I have done up to now becomes pointless,
terrified that everything I hope to do lacks meaning, lacks purpose.
I stand on the edge of change, only to find it is not an edge, but a
Möbius strip, a path that reveals no steps, no breaks, is smooth and
continuous, but ends up turning my world upside down.
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