Welcome back to another edition of Kay speaks way too much for no reason.
It's my birthday this week. I'll turn 29. It'll be my last year in my twenties. That got me thinking about what I've accomplished so far in my life. I think that I might have a bit of a thirties crisis. It feels like I haven't accomplished that much, at least a lot less than I thought I would have when I turned 20. When I was twenty, I didn't picture myself where I am right now.
So like, sure 2020 has been a crap year, and I think it's kind of a lost year, so it's okay that nothing substantial was accomplished, but I didn't have any excuses before.
It's weird. Like, I love my life, I'm satisfied with what I do, and who I am, but I would also want to be so much more. Like, mainly a published author. The only one to blame for being where I'm at though is myself. I really need to be more disciplined with my writing and the steps I'm taking towards realizing my dreams. I've waited too long for things to happen on their own.
Are you guys happy with your lives? How dangerous of a question is that?
I think this tiny existential crisis is also partly due to the fact that I've been sleep deprived for the last week or so, trying to keep my word count up for NaNoWriMo. I've fallen behind. But like, I think tonight I'm going to allow myself to not catch up with the gap and just go to sleep early.
I really need to sleep. On these words, I shall bid you farewell!