Of augmented days of defeat

Some people’s lives are about mountains and nature. Others’ are about party and sex. Others’ are about work and family. Others’ are about thought, development and creation. The realization mine is mostly the latter one makes me entirely uncomfortable, even if I try to appease myself with the thought it has its benefits. There is so much of the world out there going unexperienced, and the time is running out, and not even the definition I have with me is being done well.

It seemed like a long time ago when I had this goal of developing myself the most I could until I was twenty-five. It seemed to be enough time for me to do everything, but now I realize there’s only one year left to that. Somehow I’ve brought such an expectation to it that I feel my whole life is coming to that very point, like there is going to be no life after it. That is, if I am not developed like I want to be (which I obviously am not going to be).

The problem with becoming one year older is how every number added to my back now becomes a geometric progression of a burden. Each year it gets heavier and heavier. The pressure gets more and more intense as I realize how fast time is going by and I am having my plans being guillotined.

And while I am frustrated that I am almost twenty-five and nothing like I wanted to be (ok, some things I never even dreamed of creating, like this crest theory and the story of the flames, but it doesn't really appease my mind), the frustrtion of this day of defeat is augmented by the fact that all these other things I could have brought to my life instead were wasted already...