This is a period in life that is supposed to build wisdom. This is the summer season of life, when I should begin the harvest of all I have grown. I am sick of it. I grew a sick little crop. I make a turn and am blocked by a self imposed rule. There is no freedom here. Yes, this is where the midlife crisis is born.
I suffer and toil, I support a wife and three children. I work out. I go to night school. I am discovering that despite how hard you work, you might be making the wrong choices. You might be wasting your time. You might be expending all of your enery to build a plot for your success, and you may still fail. That is a painful realization!! Despite all of your hard work, you may be a fool and all of your time is wasted. I meant for this to be a complaint about my wife and all of the suffering she inflicts but what the fuck. That’s just the way of things. The kids are a pain too, and hopefully one of them makes enough to keep me alive or at least someone visits me at the hospital. I am busting my ass (at least I’m sitting at some shitty desk that saps all my energy even if I don’t give a fuck about what I’m doing), constantly making up dreams that will make me float to the top and survive, even though its bullshit and i’ll be working for the next thirty years plus.