I worry about my life and whether things will only be snap shots to be shoved in a box and placed in an attic full of cob webs. Is it possible to have a successful career and personal life? Why is it that when one succeeds, the other dwindles? Why can’t I have both? Is it too hard to want to be happy in both?
If I could make the perfect design of my life, it would be seamless, simplistic, but filled with new discoveries each day. The problem is that I can’t design my own life, it designs me. This is a pickle.
I remember waking up and enjoying life. Nowadays, the alarm clock goes off and I’m saddened by the fact that my dream wasn’t reality. I drag my heels getting to work and pray for vacations to make my escape. “Welcome to life as an adult,” my friends tell me. Still, life shouldn’t be this burden as if doing everything is an obligation. Life should be fun and exciting. I wish things could interest me like they used to. I could look at thinks with a vivacious attitude and make romantic stories out of simplistic ideas. I want that life again.
