Life is precious. Time is precious. Youth is wasted on the young.
I’m not that young anymore. I can’t use the excuses of innocence, or ignorance, or inexperience, to paper over my failings. There is something that I should be doing, somewhere that I should be going, some goal I should be achieving, that I’m not. And I don’t know what it is. And if I don’t, I’ll be sorry.
I should’ve started dating earlier. I should’ve started investing sooner. I should have learned to drive, bought a car, owned a house by now. I should’ve settled for that one person from that one time, but I didn’t want to then, and so here I am, being punished for my arrogance, my naïveté, my stubbornness, my stupidity.
There is wisdom and tact and secrets to succeeding, to surviving in the world, but I am too blind and dumb to know them. And when told and instructed, I balk and withdraw in uncertainty and doubt. I can only be shown the door, and must walk through it myself. There is a labyrinth of doors, a shouting cacophony of fingers pointing at every which one, begging, pleading to pick one, any one. But I am frozen, petrified with fear of picking the wrong door.
I’m on a road, and I know not where it leads. I’m in a tunnel, and I cannot see the light. All I can do is move forward, have faith that there will eventually be a sign that I can understand, an exit that I can take, a place that I can reach and rest.
Until then, I continue to waste my youth. For I know no better. The only solace is that there isn’t much left, and once spent I won’t be wasting it anymore.