Recently I’ve been trying to do the things that I should do. Not “need” to do per se - I don’t really need to do anything. That’s a blessing. But there are things that I ought to do because, allegedly, those are my hopes and dreams. I am, in any case, 33. This year, I will turn 34. In six years I will be 40 years old. The prospect fills me with terror. I have done nothing with my life. Absolutely nothing with my life.

Many years I’ve believed that it was my mental illness. After all the medication and the therapy, I think I am at a place where everything is in place. And now that everything is in place, I think I have arrived at a place where I can say the mental illness has nothing to do with it. The reason I haven’t accomplished anything in my life is because I am incapable.

In six years, I will be a 40 year old queer who has accomplished nothing, done nothing, helped no one.