25 crept up and smacked me. “You’re not a kid anymore!”
35 crept up and yelled in my ear “twice divorced where are you going from here?”
45 crept up and sternly admonished “that’s all you got?”
55 crept up and whispered “what’s the point?”
One hour away from the day that marks the end of my 55th year on this planet and all I want to do is cry.
Is this a typical mid life crisis? I’ve known since I was 10 or so that I was going to live to 105 so in actuality I’m barely mid life but in reality I just feel like I’m done.
I feel caught in the middle; between all I am capable of and all that remains is a wee spot full of angst and self pity.
I want to buy a house but is a mortgage at this stage fiscally responsible? I want to travel, but alone? I want to leave a legacy but feel disconnected and that my accomplishments were long ago and faded with time.
You see me now, but I am collection of short stories you never imagined. It’s too soon to close the book but too late to turn over a new page.
Stuck, disconnected, no one to blame but myself and yet I want to rage against the world, against myself, against the tide that has left me beached.
So much love, so much loss… just so much.
I hope to leave this on the page and experience release as I embrace a new dawn.. freedom 55
triumphgal 