As soon as you leave the airport, Tokyo crashes upon you like a giant, simulated wave.
Row upon row of concrete giants, bustling thoroughfares and perfectly aligned trees will have you questioning reality and what human existence really means.
Certain experiences change you. Their impact so prevalent you can’t remember what life was like before that moment. Nor do you want to. Tokyo is one of those times.
If you haven’t been, go.
You’ll be waiting forever.
The perfect time to break up.
The perfect time to take that vacation.
The perfect time to bring that idea to market.
The list goes on and on, as well as the excuses, and at the end of it all what are you left with?
Time lost. Moments missed. Growth stunted.
There is no perfect time.
Only doing and not doing.
The magic really is that simple.
Maybe you’ll fail miserably. Maybe you’ll make bad decisions. Maybe you’ll succeed.
In the end you are guaranteed to not be the same person you were yesterday, and if life is only made up of experiences… then there’s the fucking point right there.
Perfect is for suckers.