As I approach my fortieth birthday without having accomplished any one of the things I intended to accomplish-without ever having achieved the deep creativity that I have worked toward for all this time-I feel that I take a minor, an obscure, a dim position that is not my destiny but that is my fault, as if I had lacked, somewhere along the line, the wit and courage to contain myself competently within the shapes at hand.
As I near my fortieth birthday, I reflect on the unfulfilled aspirations that have eluded me. Despite years of striving for profound creativity, I find myself feeling insignificant and disappointed in my lack of achievement. This sense of failure weighs heavily on me, as I recognize that I am responsible for not harnessing my potential and the opportunities available to me.
This realization prompts a deep introspection about my choices and the courage I may have lacked in pursuing my goals. It's a haunting acknowledgment that my position in life does not align with my true capabilities, leading me to question the decisions and actions that have brought me here. I grapple with the understanding that my journey has been hindered by my own limitations.
