Member-only story
I apologized to my younger self. And you should too.
“Apologies are great, but they don’t really change anything. You know what does? Action.” — Stella Young
I was running through rain. “Dribble, Dribble, Dribble, Score”, went me and my basketball, while my teammates ran to hug me. We had won the match against our opponent school, fellow players. We all had exams next week, but that didn’t deter us. This meant we would bring the interschool trophy back and a quick mention in the local newspaper. I loved sports regardless of the outcome, but a few spotlights here and there never hurt.
I was the tallest in class, average at academics, and above average in sports. I loved playing all the sports I could, volleyball, basketball, tennis, badminton and even tried hockey a little bit. And like any teenager, I dreamt of the endless possibilities of things I could do with the world open for experimentation, my prime years ahead of me.
With the ring of my phone, I opened my eyes and found myself at my desk typing an email to a stakeholder who had no interest in what I dreamt of or what I liked. None of that mattered. All he wanted was the status on our project and he wasn’t wrong.
Somewhere down the line we all got stuck in reality while our creative dreams went to an alternate universe. I might be wrong here, and getting this project status…
