Standing on a subway platform, waiting for a train that was most likely delayed, I wrote about opportunity.

– – –


This opportunity. The lack thereof.

The opportunity to succeed in a world where everyone else is trying to succeed.

The opportunity my parents gave me by coming to this country.

By taking odd jobs, by working late hours, by sacrificing so much of their lives to provide for me and my life.

My life. It has been full of opportunities.

Opportunities. Missed opportunities. Given opportunities.

I have seen doors open and open doors. And closed doors and doors close.

I have been awarded opportunities. Been shut down from opportunities.

I haven’t even had the opportunity.


What does this mean? The wishing and hoping that I’d get a chance?

The trying and striving and doing and living for an opportunity.

An opportunity.

What is this?



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