I have as a good a life as any.
Family. Travel. Work. Love.
I have no cause to complain.
And yet, I am suffocated by my own feeling of inertia. I am looking for a vessel, but I am lost.
A Complainer. An Apologiser. A Serial Procrastinator.
Is what I aim to be.
In the meantime, please settle in for this mess of an early mid-life crisis. I promise it won’t be as depressing as fuck.