From your first day, you started to drag it.

Without realizing it, each day it grows heavier. Social, cultural, and collective is the dead weight. Opinions, standards, traditions, frameworks, and norms.

But the day arrives, because you are fortunate, because you understood that you will die and you understood that passion, love and happiness, experiences and connections are the only things that matter, that you want to break free from this social framework, this imposed 'duty' you have.

You want to leave behind the career you detest and you want to paint and live by painting. You want to sing, you want to dance, you want to live. You know it. Deep down, everyone knows it, I hope.

But the moment of decision arrives.

Fear, insecurity, weight. The dead weight burdens.

You always heard that you had to live life a certain way. Weight.

Your parents always told you that you had to study law. Weight.

What will they say? Weight.

What if I don't do well? Weight.

You keep dragging it. Dead Weight.

But the day comes when your arms can no longer take it. You know what you want. You know what moves you. You know what you would do if money didn't exist. You know what your purpose here is. Your passion. You can’t take the weight anymore. It seems inescapable. You can’t keep dragging it.

But what will they say? What will my friends say? What will my parents say? My family? My town? It's safer to work here. Much risk in doing what I love. Ah, but suddenly you realize:

The greatest risk in life is condemning yourself to exist without living, condemning yourself to hate Monday through Friday, condemning yourself to look back and cry in regret.

And with a small light illuminated, and with much courage, you let go of the ropes. You walk. The dead weight is left behind. Wow, how easy it was. Suddenly you are painting.

What will they say?? Things, but me? I’m Joyful and Light