/lit/ - Literature

I'm in this weird spot where I've started this family and I'm proud of the man I am at home, but I'm just so totally miserable at work. I feel like I focused so much on finding the perfect girl, and being everything for her I can, that I never really pursued my dreams. She's been so sweet the entire time we've been together and I love her so much, but I feel like I'll never get the version of my life were I was a starving artist and really honed my craft. I want to change careers, but it would be so irresponsible so I just have to stick it out longer where I'm at.

On the other hand, I know in some alternate history I just stayed a recluse, never pursued someone out of pure love, and probably grew up jaded about personal relationships. I'd probably of spent every moment lamenting how I'd give it all up to be a family man. Maybe that version of me writes passionately for hours at a time, no family taking up his personal time, but I'd of been lonely. As lonely as I was before her. I would of stopped leaving my house after a multitude of embarrassing dates. Maybe of had one or two college girls tell me I wasn't emotionally available or mature enough for them.

This isn't why I stay with them. I stay with them because I love them. I just have this deep sorrow for what could of been, and even though I try to cope, reasoning I'd be just as bad off without them, it doesn't make me any less sad. I'm honest with myself so I'm always happy and I'm always sad.

I hate that I have to stay late at work tomorrow, but my son learned colors today and I'm so proud.

I never get time to read or write except for a few hours a day maybe five times a week, but my wife slept in so she could cuddle me after five years of marriage.