Wednesday, June 18
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Aging [journal] I turned 24 years old this past Sunday, and now, after all these years, I understand the horror of turning older. I really could not understand, as a boy, why it was so bad to be a certain age. But you know, it's not the age itself that is the big deal, it's the self-reflection brought about by the age. I mean if I was rich man with a great private and social life, and an illustrious career would I be boohooing at 24? No, turning 24 would be fine. Problem is I'm not. I ask myself these questions, all of which have empty answers: What have I accomplished? What do I have? What have I yet to do? Where do I stand in this world.
The timer is running down. I have one less year to do good, to be good. The day I turn 50 with a loving wife, wonderful children, great relationships, a satisfying job and little regrets, is the day I'll be happy to turn 50.
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