Serenity, at last.

In just ten days, I will mourn my forty-ninth birthday. I know it is a sad and tiresome cliche to remark about how the years have flown by and, yet, how it seems that my childhood was only yesterday. However, both are true. I have squandered my life and, since I don't believe in the hearafter, my only chance in all of eternity to exist. I know I should be in a panic to get as much accomplished as I can in what little time I have left, (and, I don't really have that much time left). Yet, I almost welcome the end. For all intents and purposes, I have given up. I am simply existing and trying to maintain as much peace and tranquility as I can while enjoying the beauty around me and watching my mind slip rapidly away. To this end, I remain in a meaningless job as a night auditor in a motel, earning $7.25 an hour. I rent from my mother the back two rooms of the house in which I grew up. I seek to distance myself from a former best friend who has allowed his life to fall apart to a far worse degree than even I have done. I have lost another to suicide. And, I no longer entertain the dreams and fantasies of what I could do with my life. Instead, I live in the past and write a gay romantic soap opera for a web site on the Internet. I have a good following and it makes me angry at myself that, since I have discovered that I really do have a talent for writing, that I didn't apply myself to this career choice when I was a teenager instead of the stupid fantasy of politics. Oh, well. I cannot live in regret. I must try to be as serene and tranquil as I can and find peace during my last months or years. (I certainly hope this doesn't seem melodramatic; I am entirely sincere when I write these words).