Lines. They're all over your life. Right there in front of you. Diagonally across. Some near the horizon where you can barely see. Some like a mirage, appearing and disappearing in front of your eyes every second. Some ones invisible. You don't know they exist until ages after. There are even lines that you have to draw for yourself at all the right places. And then there are the lines you have left behind. The ones you see near and far every time you turn to look back over your shoulder.

In an ideal world, there should be no lines behind you. All of them should lie ahead of you, right in front of your eyes. And in this ideal world, the ideal you with all the ideal wisdom in your head should know never to step over any of these lines. Crossing the line is what makes you from right to wrong, good to bad, pretty to ugly.

I have an inherent problem. I don't care about the lines. I know that they are there and I know that I should not be crossing them. But I don't care. I keep jumping over and across them like I'm playing hopscotch. No, seriously. It's like a game for me. An extra point for one more line crossed. No competition. There are no other people in the game. I am my competition. It's crazy. And I'm all wrong and bad and ugly now.

I need to stop the game. I am trying. Promise. It is one of my things this year. And you know what. Today, I had a line laid flat in front of me. A line on the other side of which there was a sweet calling for my name. A line on the other side of which I would have and would have been deceived for a temporary high. A line on the other side of which I would have touched a new low. And I decided to walk away from that line. Despite all the temptations. I walked away and I walked a step closer to the finish line of my game. I'm going to get there. Very soon. Very very soon.