I'm 25. I was 24 yesterday.

Casting away the attributes of youth and fully immersing oneself into the aspects of adulthood, twenty-five is an age of accomplishment. I fear that I'm growing older. It is reasonable to expect that I shall soon find myself domesticated with a family of my own and an 8-5 job, embracing in that of no substance; no substance other than that of safety.

My life is safe. I make 30k+/yr. I have great benefits: a nice health care package and a retirement program– a retirement program of all things! A life has just begun to be lived and a retirement program is already in place for that life's closure. Yet, these are the things that I wanted out of college and now I have them. The culmination of my academic experiences has brought me this: safety– safety that discourages my ambition and makes me fat.

There is nothing inherently wrong with being safe. We look for safe housing in which to reside. We want to drive safely. We want to put our money somewhere safe. Everything is safe-safe-safe. Who doesn't want to be safe?

What is gained from being safe? NOTHING– we're only attempting to maintain our present status. It is true that what one has gained is more apt to being kept if it is safe. Ironically, strides had to be undertaken in order to gain that in which is now kept safe. Is the transition to what we consider to be responsible adulthood, a transition of gravitating towards safety as opposed to risk? One would have to consider the value of the contents of what is being kept in our safe box and determine if engaging in risk is a viable option to undergo.

One should examine the contents of his safe box and consider the ramifications of losing it all. If losing those safe items brings greater rewards, would one do it? Is it a matter of courage? A matter of misaligned trust? The worst case scenario would involve losing the contents of the safe box while not gaining any ground. If one deemed that the safe items could be lost, would it truly make a difference if those items were removed and the superficial convenience is lost?

My eyes are open. My heart does not desire this lifestyle of 8-5 work where the years pass with nothing gained other than shallow frivolities, all while remaining safe. I do not desire a life of showroom furniture sets, remote controls, and drink coasters.

Am I ambitious? Perhaps. Ambition has brought down the greats. Ambition made them great. Do I have the courage to embark on this voyage fueled by my ambition?