That very thought crosses my mind most nights as I lay my anxious body to bed.
How am I in my thirties still at the same job that I started in my twenties?
How am I still paying for rent for a tiny apartment while my friends are building homes?
Speaking of friends how is it that I barely have any, when I use to be the life of the party?
How is it that I live a lonely life? Did I get tired of people of not accepting me? Or did I just get tired of trying?
Would my life in my thirties be different if I wasn’t such a creature of habit and self-doubt?
Maybe if I had that fire as I did in my twenties maybe I wouldn’t be here?
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