I’m 32 today. I feel more and more with the weight of existing and life, that “special” events get more and more bogged down. Maybe it’s age? Christmas doesn’t feel as great, it’s more like one neat day amidst a flurry of really shitty ones. Today’s about the same. No one’s happy. When did that happen? Has it always been that way?
Anyway, while at work the other day, my colleague and friend stated he was nervous about turning 30. I laughed. He said the reason was I rocked 30. Got fit, did a Tough Mudder, went to Guatemala, started my writing career, and stuff. I set the bar high. Unintentional, but it was a nice feeling. I also know he knew that I’ve been riddled with depression and anxiety the past couple weeks. Still feels good to hear.
I’m finally posting for the first time in a long time to set out some goals for me in the following year. Most of these are underway, it’s just sticking to them. To be honest, most of the excitement in my life happened after 30, so I’m going to keep that going. Because if I don’t create it, no one else will.
I think that’s it. There are my goals for the coming year. I can do it, yes I can.
Fantasy Writer and Cartographer
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I have people to kill, lives to ruin, plagues to bring, and worlds to destroy. I am not the Angel of Death. I'm a fiction writer.