These days I have too much.

These days, I feel like I am selfish. I hold onto all of my energy. I waste too much of it. And now, I just sit by with my tank on full.

I need it to write. I really do. And I’ve written more than I have in 10 years with this emotional clarity. But I don’t think I’m giving enough back to the world. I’m creating too little. I am manufacturing too much. I’m foolishly acting like life will last forever.

Like it’s a single player video game with unlimited lives. And no punishments - Only rewards.

Nothing is more important now than for me to delay gratification, at a time when I don’t need to at all. Because, If I can’t, I will have none of it saved up for the future. None of it for the time I’ll wish I had it. I’ll die young if I don’t.

And I don’t want to die young. But I’m scared quite a bit. Scared what life will be like if I don’t find love. Scared what life would be like if my parents wern’t around. What happens if I get old. If my dreams don’t come true. If things fall short of my expectations.