Time, to let go....

 As I get older, I think about things that invade my world and people who still exist in it as well. I often wonder what the time limit of particular friendships should be as opposed to how they are. Most people know that some folks come into your life for a limited time, or for the long haul. I wonder how many of those folks that I have kept holding on to should have been limited edition. It feels like a turning point in my adulthood where I think about the ones who have been there and those who haven't, those who have helped themselves along the way, or those who stood by me and let me meltdown every blue moon. I worry, because there are things that I know that I will never do again and people that I will never get to connect with. Getting older and growing up often means that the connections that I had or adventures that made me who I am are completely lost on any other generation than those in my current age bracket. I cannot share memories with folks who have no frame of reference to agree with. I can not longer adapt to my friends with children as most of them are now having grandchildren and thinking about the age of retirement that is upon them. I have kept this online journal for 17 years. What I have learned from this is that I have progressed in certain areas in my life, but ultimately I have not changed. And I hate that. I need to change the voice in my head and ask him to start being kinder to me. After all, he's the one who torments me the most. I haven't been able to find what it is that I am looking for, because what I have been looking for hasn't been progress. That is not to say that I have regressed, but I have had no movement towards what it is in life that I think I need. 

I make friends with the same type of people and still shy away from the ones that I know would influence my life for the better. I let the world see a version of me that really isn't me and it contradicts the relationships that I want to have with others and be it good or bad, I am still quite lonely, still quite alone, and mostly stuck in my head. There really isn't a point to this post other to say that I think I want to be better and a better person to myself and others. However long that shelf-life is, I honestly don't have a clue. I just know, that I am not making any new memories and the stories that I have to tell are almost coming to an end. It's the shelf life that all living things have, but do not know exactly. I am not scared of it anymore, because there is absolutely nothing that I could ever do about it. And how sad would infinite immortality be?