soliloquy

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
-
sometimes i wonder if all of this is worth fighting for. 


because as adulthood beckons and I say goodbye to being a teenager, I realise that I'm 20 years closer to the end. we all have that clock ticking above our heads, and with every passing second we are losing the fight to fulfil our bucket list. 


so the question really is, are you willing to take chances and prioritise society's bucket list over yours?


I remain undecided.