Sometimes I just feel that I have wasted all my life. All those years I’ve worked my ass off, just went straight down the sink in one moment. One moment that I thought would change my life. And it did some way. Just not exactly the way I imagined.

They say you mature with all your scars. That you need to suffer if you want to grow. I spent the last two and a half year trying to figure out what to do with my life. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t nearly perfect before, but it didn’t feel so fucked up like now. I had a job that didn’t pay me enough to die but at least I loved it. And damn, I was good at it. I knew that I had no chance to advance there or make a living out of it, and to move on with my life I had to change, but it still hurts. Seeing someone else doing what I did. Seeing someone else loving the job once I loved. It’s still killing me.

Nevermind I have a great job which looks pretty impressive in my resumĂ© and finally I’m making decent money which allows me to finally move into my own place. Well, not really my own, just a rent, but anyway, you got the point. And I met awesome people, some of them even became close friends. But still, I feel miserable.

Around me, everyone seems to get their life together. Moving in with boyfriends, moving into a new country, getting married, having kids. And me? I can’t even write a damn page of my cherished little book. I feel like such a failure. I’m 32 and I literally have nothing. No boyfriend, no dream job, no apartment, no chunky bank account. No dreams to pursuit anymore. I’m not sure if I even exist anymore.

Everyone says to hold on, better days are coming. But honestly? I don’t think there is anything good left in store for me. Maybe I had my chances and I blew it. I’m still grieving the life I had. And this grief makes it impossible to love the life I’m living in. Even if I would like to.