(A post from the archives)
This month marked the end of my 20's. For most of this year, I was scared to death. Then, I kind of got over it and tried not to think about it, but in the last week, it's started to really get under my skin.
I have had a lot of time for introspection this month, and I've come to realize a few things about myself. Physically I am fatter and my knees don't work for shit anymore.
Mentally I am too angry. For a white male who did not grow up in poverty, I am much too angry with society and with others. I have very little patience for just about anything. I find myself filling with anger at the slightest provocation anymore. I have not found any inner peace.
I am also incredibly lazy, selfish and self-centered. I am not a part of society. I do not help others. I do not volunteer. I have no friends, and I am not close to most of my family.
I don't know how I envisioned myself at 30, but I'm not sure this is it. I keep waiting to grow up, and that's the problem. I spend too much time waiting and no time doing. I am no one. I am not famous. I have not achieved any big dream. I still see pro athletes and famous musicians, and I image how I'm going to do it when I get there. It has not viscerally sunk in yet that I will never be there. I will be just another American vanilla guy living an ordinary life. There's nothing wrong with that, but I think that's what Fight Club was all about. I guess when it does sink in, that's what my mid-life crisis will be about.
At 30, I seem to be another guy just realizing that the dreams and fantasies of childhood are unachievable. I am not Batman or an astronaut. I am a teacher and a husband. That should be good enough, and it will be when I finally grow up.
I don't think I've wasted my life so far; I just don't think I've lived up to my potential or my own expectations, however high or unrealistic they may be. I don't know if I have disappointed anyone else, but I've definitely disappointed myself.