astitchaway's Diaryland Diary



I've got almost 30 years under my belt - 3 decades - and nothing to show for it except a handful of distant memories. I feel like the best days of my life have already passed. Same with the worst. That there's nothing left now but an endless lull until the day the record stops spinning.

If that sounds melodramatic, it's only because you're not looking at the bigger picture.

I've stopped to consider the stories of yesterday, contrasting the possibilities of tomorrow. But the thing is, there isn't much that I can do that I haven't done already. There aren't places I can travel. There aren't people I can meet. There aren't things I haven't done. On the list of things to do before I die, I might gather they've all been crossed off. Or, most of them have been at least. I've got no ambitions, because in my eyes, I've lived my life already. There's nothing this world can offer me. Or, that's how it's felt for as long as I can remember. Years, at least. Pointless and endless and dragging out without the decency of giving up when it was time. I feel like I've held on for too long. Especially when it came to the idea of having a greater purpose, for myself or for this life. Like, there had to be a reason. I gave that up when I gave up my ambition, my drive, my desire. I've felt flickers here and there. The inspiration to make changes. Either to become a better person or to work more consciously at finally achieving something that would last. Because memories fade. They do. It doesn't matter how much life experience is under your belt. When your time is up, your story is over. The only way to truly matter is to leave something behind that continues to speak, long after your words have faded. I think, that matters more. I think, that's how we immortalize the lives we've lived; whether that's music or literature or art. We live on through our creations. Or I tell myself that, because if I can put something into the world, I know that's something I haven't done yet. I haven't crossed that particular task off the list. Not yet. But I'm getting there. I'd be disappointed if I died tomorrow - which is a first for me. I usually embrace the idea of turning the music into an echoing - then fading - silence. But I'm on the verge. The verge of feeling like something matters.

It's not just about the manuscript. It's something more. Something deeper.

Love can't give your life meaning, but it can certainly help you to see meaning in the bigger picture. Sometimes, it can just help you to see the bigger picture.

1:18 a.m. - 2017-02-05


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