Paying the mortgage

It's been a long time since I last aspired to make up those ten things I listed to accomplish before I turn into my thirties. Time passes by without notice. Those days of innocent dreams trumpeted in the name of youth loom as only presumptuous fanfares that marked my ignorance. I wasn't paying attention until now I realized I was only living in borrowed time and borrowed dimes.

Dreams of bubbles boiled down to reality. I couldn't help but to repent for those days where I couldn't resist but to waste my life. I thought I was going die remorselessly for the way I lived, and the very self I hammered. How can I be more wrong? The irreparable damage, the irreplaceable fear and panics staggers my bearings. I am only 23. Yet I live like a 76 year old who cries over the reminiscent photos, cringe before the formidable prospects of deaths.

I can't waste any of my time now. I'll start paying the mortgage. Heal the wounds. Carry on, for the time I lost.