Four years later...

Four years ago, I answered the question where I wanted to be in five years here.

And now, it's four years later...the question to be asked it, what do I feel, to know my 'dream' hasn't happened.

Upon reflection, thinking back to that woman, twenty-three, consumed with a diffrent life and a diffrent future....

I'm not upset that that dream hasn't occured. In fact, that dream has long since been dead and buried, covered over by new dreams and new ideals.

Yes, I still want that son, but the idea of the child has changed, no longer a toddler running around, but a school aged child, adopted later in my life. Yes, I still want to write, but I'm okay with un-finished works and devoting more time to someone else's universe then my own. I'm happy with my readers and the interaction I have with them. They are small, but they are loyal and above all, critical, giving me valuble insites to my works that is far better then I could have from any reader of a novel.

I'm twenty-seven now, I've changed in those years that have passed. I'm about to start collage in April...something I haven't done since I was eighteen. I have seen the greatest despare and the greatest joys in my life to date, I have loved, lost and loved again...and for once, in a long time recently, I'm happy with my life, eager to see what is coming and ready to embrace whatever it is. I am happy with my relationships, my role in my work life, and proud, of what I have accomplishe so far.

Yes, there are things that could have been, might have been, should have been...but I'm not dwelling on them...it's time to move forward.

...and it's time to go check on my cat who just fell off the bed. Ja ne!

Four years later…

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Four years ago, I answered the question where I wanted to be in five years here.

And now, it’s four years later…the question to be asked it, what do I feel, to know my ‘dream’ hasn’t happened.

Upon reflection, thinking back to that woman, twenty-three, consumed with a diffrent life and a diffrent future….

I’m not upset that that dream hasn’t occured. In fact, that dream has long since been dead and buried, covered over by new dreams and new ideals.

Yes, I still want that son, but the idea of the child has changed, no longer a toddler running around, but a school aged child, adopted later in my life. Yes, I still want to write, but I’m okay with un-finished works and devoting more time to someone else’s universe then my own. I’m happy with my readers and the interaction I have with them. They are small, but they are loyal and above all, critical, giving me valuble insites to my works that is far better then I could have from any reader of a novel.

I’m twenty-seven now, I’ve changed in those years that have passed. I’m about to start collage in April…something I haven’t done since I was eighteen. I have seen the greatest despare and the greatest joys in my life to date, I have loved, lost and loved again…and for once, in a long time recently, I’m happy with my life, eager to see what is coming and ready to embrace whatever it is. I am happy with my relationships, my role in my work life, and proud, of what I have accomplishe so far.

Yes, there are things that could have been, might have been, should have been…but I’m not dwelling on them…it’s time to move forward.

…and it’s time to go check on my cat who just fell off the bed. Ja ne!