Sometimes I stray outside the box and wonder why life is the way it is. Must I keep doing things the way I’ve always done them? I’m not old yet, but I feel the sands of time slipping through my fingers. The streams of sand are trickling slightly faster than yesteryear. The remaining pile is getting smaller.
I wish I could spend more days doing what I want. Reading, writing, creating, exploring, learning, socializing. I wish more of my days could be carefree. I would not want to part with all responsibility, just this chaotic, unending kind. You know…most of adulthood. I long to walk in Calvin’s wood with Hobbes trailing behind.
Is there no respite? Why does sick leave sound exciting? I grit my teeth on Monday morning, and breathe a sigh of relief when Friday rolls around. One down, Fifty to go. And then, come December, I must cram a year’s worth of rest into fourteen festive days.
Ten down, Fifty to go.
I don’t look forward to retirement. It sounds like a weekend you’re too tired to enjoy. It’s the dregs of our time, energy, and wealth. We might not even make it there. You’ve spent your youth tilling another’s fields while strangers raised your children, now enjoy what’s left!
We live in the perpetual now, flipping from one moment to the next. If we don’t enjoy now, we never will. The next moment will be upon us. What about now?
Of all the boundless paths, is this the one on which I must remain?
Is this it?
