There's probably a sweet spot for risk taking. Right around your mid-twenties where you've seen just enough to know that old people can be dumb, ignorant and that their opinion can be useless and wrong. You see yourself growing up, solidly becoming yet another dumb mtf. But these are the times where you don't want to be yet another dumb mtf. And a certain madness is still embedded in you. It's a function of the time left to make up for any mistakes you might do at this stage in your life. You've been an animal in a cage for some time, forced to fit into document templates and work hours and discussion ethics. So you voice out your difference.
Here you are on the Barcelona beach with a light in your eyes. And the light comes up your nostrils, down your tracheas and into your stomach. Which can't handle it. And spits it out to your guts. The water is cold. You're shivering despite the burning sun. The lord himself won't throw you in. Yet you must. You should. You have in the past and if you don't, it means one thing only: You've changed. For the worse.
Here's a kid, foolish little thing, running into the water. Screaming out the freezing horror out his lungs. You're over-thinking it. Again. Guts are a muscle. And yours are getting weaker. Remember the roller-coasters of the past. The ones that took your heart and squeezed it until it slipped away. You've survived. Many times again. Remember. Remind yourself of what it means to be stupid. Of the beauty of turning off your thoughts. Take it away.