Imagine Luke Skywalker about to plunge into the heart of the Death Star, ready to deal the finishing blow to the Empire, when he suddenly loses his nerve, pulls out, stammers to his stricken wingmen that they don't know what's in there, that it could be a blazing nuclear inferno or a dead-end maze of steel, while the galaxy looks on and wonders why he was a coward right when it mattered, and he goes back to Dagobah as the assault falls apart, back to sitting beside a swamp and hating himself.
Imagine a boy, a heartbeat away from speaking a simple truth that could change his life, but bailing even as he has the words about to burst out of his mouth, thinking that it's too early, because he really has no idea where this could land him, but knowing that someday it'll be too late, and dreading that day, because ignorance of the future can't hide you from the truth forever.
(Note: this was actually written at one in the morning, while a thunderstorm raged outside. But I don't have a computer in my room, so I had to make do with scribbling this down on notebook paper and waiting until now to enter it.)
posted on Sunday, June 15, 2003
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