I really don’t know how some people can juggle so much in their lives at once. I, on the other hand, feel like my ability has taken a nosedive the older I get. I don’t know what I am anymore. Have I truly lived? Do I want to, and what the hell does the definition of living even mean?
At the end of January in 2020, something big is happening for me but as of yet I have deep reluctance to say what it is. It is good news, though I am afraid of jinxing myself considering my history of getting excited about new opportunities and then stuff doesn’t work out for one reason or another. Was I looking for my future in all the wrong places? Every time I failed, I felt so bleak about where to go from there. Maybe it was all meant to happen like this; every struggle and heartache and desperation like specks of sands pouring through an hourglass, all leading up to what is now.