The biggest problem is the passing of time. Every band worth their salt from pink floyd to the rolling stones has lamented its passing. Time. Ticking away, the moments that make up a dull day.
Every day I'm sure I've done OK, but every tomorrow I know that yesterday was wasted. Every year I feel as though I've never done enough, always feeling the ticking of that internal clock; the heart. Only so many ticks, beats, tocks - and you're gone.
I know that when I look at myself in the present, I know I'm OK. I speak two languages, I'm studying another two. I have a partner that I love and with whom I've lived faithfully for the last year. I'm a skilled and professionally sought-after computer programmer.
But if I look at myself with the past in mind, I'm never happy enough. I was always the smartest in my class, primary and secondary. Fuck, I was smarter than half the teachers. But I never graduated university, never even finished high-school. So what would I be doing should I have done so? Taken over the entire universe, been a CEO of a natty web company? Fuck knows. I mean, I'm happy enough with my dog and my cat and my new sofa that my cat fucking destroys. So what if I'm the same under-achiever that I've been since my Year Three teacher declared me that in, what, nineteen nineteen ninety-two, and one of bosses called me in two-thousand and five? Maybe I can be happy under-achieving if it's not those goals that I'm trying to achieve?

Still Caulfielding it up in 2007 and at 23 or 24 years of age?

You fucking bet'ya.

- ele / him