I can see why a lot of people my age sit on the couch and drink beer when they aren’t at work. All their dreams and goals have been crushed. They are merely hollow shells of the people that they once were.
I really get it after today.
I have little hope of ever getting a promotion. I’m just not management. I likely never will be and thus, while I have a well paying job, it’s not likely that I will ever do much more. And, more frightening, within a few years, it will be a meaningless job and I’m not sure what to do next.
I have little hope of ever getting my black belt in karate. I’m fast approaching my physical limits and I’m not getting younger. I can’t keep up.
I have little hope of ever getting published. Much less finishing my second novel. I can barely write a few hundred words a day. My goal was to have about 40,000 words by now… I have barely 4,000.
I’ve raised my child as best I know, as little as that is.
I’m tired. My life’s ambitions are lying in tattered strands around me. I have no idea how to do the things I want to do, much less even know what I need to do.
I just don’t know any more.