The hardest part about growing old is keeping the dream alive. I haven’t been doing so good, haven’t been doing my part. Caught up in planning my future, I’ve once again lost myself and my ever-changing vision, but at least I had one. At least I had a glorified vision of what I wanted, what I believed in, what inspired me with passion. Who knows what I’m doing or where I’m going. I have somewhat of an idea, but who knows. It goes by fast. One day you wake up and you’re almost 30, then 40, ten years, a decade, who knew it was such a short amount of time. I hate birthdays.
I can smell the sulfur in the air. Atop a super volcano with burnt to a crisp lodge pole pines awaits the land that I once knew. I must get it back. What has happened to me?