The next moment is unwritten.
The next hour, the next day, the next year—all completely empty and totally full of potential and possibility.
I routinely forget that I get to author my own moments. They don’t have to be the same as the ones before.
I don’t have to be the same and do the same things I’ve always done.
I can choose my adventures. I can be who I want to be and attempt what I’ve never tried before.
The unwritten moments unfolding before you glow with all that could be.
Or you could keep trudging along, oblivious to the possibility machine you truly are.