Fail, fail, fail, fail, succeed

My Problem With Throwing Shit Out

Ok, I’m not really a sentimental guy, but it’s hard. I don’t like throwing things out because, whether it’s positive or negative, they seem to somehow be imbued with the power of the past. They might be a physical reminder of failed plans, or maybe connected to a memory that involved someone who is no longer here.

See, when you get older, you realize these things are artifacts from a time in your life that is now over. They are a painful reminder that you will never be that age again, because my friend, that ship has sailed. You’re older now and time is running out. You realize that many of the things you thought you might do are probably going to remain undone. There’s other stuff that you will do, but the open ended possibilities from your youth are gone.

You don’t have these problems until you’re 60 or so, and by then I guess you should feel lucky that you’re still alive. ‘Cuz the downhill slope from here is quick, assured, and inevitable. The train has left the station and it’s picking up speed to reach its final destination.

If there’s any business you want to take care of, you might want to get cracking. I’m not sure how many stops are left on this ride.