I love those
two words: “Fuck it.”
They’re such a
symbolic precipice. Sometimes they’re
said right before you’re about to do something really stupid - or really
brave. Either way, you’re about to cross
a line.
Full
disclosure: I’m a connoisseur of profanity.
I find it to be very useful in making a point or making a joke. I have a pretty good vocabulary, so I don’t
need to employ it every single situation, but I like the way the words
sound. Like I enjoy the way alcohol
tastes. Like I love all my vices.
For you, it may
not be that extreme. Maybe your ‘fuck it’
translates into ‘here we go’ or ‘let’s do this’ or ‘well, fine then’ or even ‘gee
golly willickers!’.
What’s the
point of this little vulgar post?
I was thinking
about the times I’ve said ‘fuck it’ and what followed turned out to be some of
my greatest lessons. Not necessarily rainbows
and unicorn shit (some were quite prolific and downright painful), but experiences
that have made me the woman that I am today – whether they were very brave or
very stupid.
‘Fuck it’ is
taking a chance. Stepping out into the
unknown. Sometimes into an old landmine
field.
That’s what I think
life is about. That’s the point.
It’s not about swaddling
yourself in the safety of illusory, meaningless assurances of how the story’s
going to end.
It’s being
absolutely certain that you only have so many tomorrows and that today might be
your last one.
Whatever you've been put on this earth to do, you better get on it.
For everything
else that stands in between you and your destiny?
Just say fuck it.
Just say fuck it.
