Babies, engagements, promotions – oh my!

It seems like everywhere I turn, someone is knocked up with offspring – gleefully blissful in their accomplishment to produce a new life, proof that their legacy extends beyond a website.

There’s no method to the madness.

As I get older I find that some people place more value on their personal lives than their professional life. There are no green eyes of envy here except the occasional “woe is me” moment that’s brought upon by their general happiness with life.

I don’t want kids but I do want to be happy, with an inner peace that only comes with being in love with who you are, as you are, wherever you are.

Maybe that’s how Darwinism works. Only those who can find that inner peace are the ones who get to reproduce. That’s the story I tell myself. It’s easier to digest that version for why I’m not happy than to accept the narrative I’ve forced myself to ignore.

My reality is different and it’s one I’m working hard to rewrite, because life is not a box of chocolate. It’s a journal with blank pages and our experiences are the ink that writes the chapters.

Another year, another chance to reflect on the past with a misty eye optimism for the future. Somewhere I stopped living in the present and attribute my manic state of extreme happy and extreme sadness to my constant shift in perspective.

No I’m not bipolar although at times I wonder “what if.”

I am obsessive, to a fault.

I persist on a past and live in that nostalgia as if it were the oxygen to keep me breathing. Other times I live in the future, like a true daydreamer, to the point where I neglect reality.

The next thing you know I crash and burn in my own frantic state of “what am I doing with my life” that I internalize all that guilt.

It’s quite a mess to see but the cool thing about living as an anti-social entrepreneur is that I get to mask depression with the illusion of a workaholic lifestyle.

Somewhere in the past life stopped and I found myself waiting for the switch to get turned back on.

When does life begin?

Or rather when does it kick back up into high gear? It’s like those music videos, where everything is in fast-forward mode while the lone singer stands there in awe of the lights and sounds.

The days don’t get shorter. The years don’t stretch out like they did when I was in my 20s.

Perspective is a bitch and knowing how it all works makes the wait that much more unbearable. On this side of 30, this is not a happily ever after fairy tale ending. Even the villains look at me and shrug their shoulders with that “I got nothing” look on their face.

I’m waiting for the chance to scream PLOT TWIST so I can move on to the next act.