Another year. 25.
It might be the 1:50am talking or the conversation I've just had with a friend, but boy does each passing day makes me feel anxious to sooner discover what I would want my life to be. As much as I try to be mindful of the aphorism that don't think about life so much that I forget living it - I can't help it.
I think I'm successful in living. Not sure what to compare myself to but I've taken risk - some good, some bad. But ultimately, I have stories and learned lessons.
Perhaps it's also the short stories in Noctures by Kazuo Ishiguro that's the catalyst to my need for writing tonight as well but whatever it may be, hopefully in my writing this, it'll help at least resolve a what little anxiety I have, which has been increasing in frequency lately.
Recently I've struggle with work life balance. It's always been the case but it's been on my mind a little more lately. There's so much to talk about and ironically writing should help organize some of my thoughts but i just want to be able to discuss all that's on my mind simultaneously. Unfortunately, I won't be able to do this.
As I'm writing this, I struggle to continue. The thought to write all I feel seems cumbersome - perhaps this is an excuse.
Maybe bullet points will help.
