What does it feel like to realize that your ambition is gone? Or that you're destined for ordinary? Here's my short, sweet take on it. Enjoy!
The work has settled into my bones but not my essence. I trudge toward each paycheck as I slip further away from my mind’s fire. Repetition does a bit to abate the loss. The daily redundancy deadens the push back a younger me would have valiantly offered, struggling against an enemy that doesn’t use violence, but weariness in its stead.
Oh, the glow of youth presents such promise. Eager to embark on a worthwhile quest, eager to let loose meaning only to be quieted by the perpetual flow of seconds. What right do I have to pursue the gratification my neurons demand when responsibility has opened its cavernous maw?
The only solution is redirection of the electrical impulse. Separating aspiration from reality, diminishing the lure of the waning call of significance. Achievement takes on new meaning at this point. Where once fulfilment came in the form of accomplishment, it now presents as a dulling of the senses. Numbness has become my god.