I take a chance every time I let Skye outside.
It's an uncalculated risk: is there a deer beside the Cottage, in front of it, behind it, that she'll catch wind of and chase? Or is there not?
Sometimes I don't know until I open the door.
But I have to open the door. Keeping her inside 24/7 is not an option.
Of course, I'm not just talking about Skye. I'm talking about my heart, and maybe yours too. I can't keep it locked inside, but what am I risking by letting it loose?
In short: a lot.
Isn't that part of the definition?
Calculated risk: A chance taken after careful estimation of the probable outcome. Not negating the risk, but choosing that the outcome is worth the chance.
I'm surveying my chances, I'm calculating my risks, I'm deciding that...
...yeah, they're worth taking.
If I fail, I'll get back up again.
Ah, but if I don't...
What the hell.
I'm flinging the door wide open.
"You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation, trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened - or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on." Tupac