The frontier is something to be explored, but I don't know if it is a place to live.
The frontier forces us to adapt to our environment, but I don't know if it is always best for us.
The frontier is hard, but I don't know if I should be, too.
Frustrations are common here. The frontier is reality. Whether we like it or not, it is what looms in the distance, it is what surrounds us, and it is what beats us to hell. We are drawn out in to it by a nagging feeling that everything will be better out here, for some reason. It calls to us, and we answer with all of who we are; we answer with our lives. We can explore it, and some can live with it. But, some can't. I hope I can. I think I will.
Whatever drew us out here doesn't matter anymore. It's not important once you get away from everything. Things change. We change. I suppose we have to adapt in some way, if we plan to keep on like we have. I hope I can. I think I will.
Yes, things are hard out here. I know that now. Maybe I always knew it, and I just didn't want to admit it. Things seemed brighter for some reason. They always seem brighter when you want them to be. Maybe I should adapt; maybe I should change. If I am not as hard as the frontier, I will not be a part of it. I must be, or I won't be. To what end, I don't know. I will be hard. I know it.
