Tears wet my Pillow as I embarked on my 33rd trip around the Sun. All I could think of is how much pain, suffering, and anguish I have experienced or watch others experience in life. The deaths, the ice that humans are slowly morphing into. I clothes my eyes and pray that I do not wake in the morning.

33….What a throw away age. You are past your milestone, not quite mid, not near your next milestone. Just filled with anxiety and anxiousness of what the future holds. Just there, just blah.

I have accomplished so much and yet still have so much more to do. I have everything I need, nothing of what I want, and yet those two interchange so often. Travel no longer grounds me. Fun seems to escape me, yet here I am remaining positive, hopeful, but wanting to give up.

I’m not depressed I’m not melancholy, I’m just here. I’m here still trying, still pushing, still loving, still searching for….33

33 ways to forgive, 33 habits to break, 33 ways to make things better, 33 smiles to fake.
33 ways to keep my faith, 33 ways to say no,
33 weeks to right my wrongs, 33 years to let go.

What do you think?