I wrote this several months back but failed to publish it. It's still relevant so I publish it unedited:
So I am but a few short months shy of my 33rd birthday and as I look back and contemplate and the life I never led I am forced to confront the unalterable truth that in my years upon this rock I have achieved nothing. Whilst others around my plough on with successful careers, family lives and other assortments that constitute the milieu of life the only thing I can say I have done is survive. Survive the trivial issues which have plagued my existence. But that isn't enough is it? Not for me and certainly not for anyone else who would know me. I have nothing to show for my worth.
I am a nihilist, a fatalist and, though I try, I think one cannot, ultimately change one's nature. I am the way I am and it is only in accepting that fact that is it possible to look at things with any objectivity. After all if one deludes himself with a false impression then any possible outcome or solution would be nullified when any attempt at implementation was acted upon.
One thing I am, and for some times have been, aware of is that I have no desired purpose. My guess is that many people know what it is they wish to accomplish in their life but this is not so with myself. There is no career that has really called to me at the cost of all else, although I am very aware that the creative arts are were I am most strongly drawn. Once upon a time I would have said I wished to be an actor but many moons ago I realised that this was not the case; I found I disagreed with most decisions made by directors, that I would always play too much and not take the job seriously enough, that only following the completion of a run would I be able to offer the performance what it needed. Yet I still very much enjoy singing and some years ago, perhaps naturally, found I had a natural aptitude for directing but, alas, life interferes in any pursuit of these.
Christopher Isherwood wrote 'I am a camera', perhaps his most famous quote, but I am a blank page waiting to be writ upon. Until then I serve no purpose in life.
I wonder if I search for something other than the things I lament. In many ways I have always felt ill at ease with the world at large, out of place with the people around me and greatly dissatisfied with the world, how it works and what it has to offer. Perhaps I still grieve for the things I have lost so many years ago and part of me will forever remain incomplete and will continue aching for something to replace them.
I wonder. As always.