Sometimes I worry that I’m becoming a boring housewife at 26.
That every trace of me will disappear when I am dead.
That I’m not doing enough.
That I’m doing too much.
That I’m settling for mediocrity.
What is a mediocre life though, really? Wouldn’t a lot of people kill for it?
It’s so difficult to know, you see, because you can’t know what your ghost lives may have looked like – the lives you may have lived if you’d taken a different path or made a different decision here or there or there.
It all kind of overwhelms me to think about. I think, for today, I’ll just try to stay in the present.