10-11, twelve.

Another birthday tomorrow, another reminder that time is running out.

I often wonder, did I do enough. Am I doing enough? Will there ever be ‘enough’?

Does it even, ever matter?

There are times I try to shut the world out, just take care of me, I try to be like everyone else or what everyone else seems to be at times.

There are times I wish I could not care, to turn a blind eye but there is no looking away for me.

Does it ever matter? Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter to me. Sometimes, it matters only to me.

It’s usually the dumb little thing you don’t think twice about that often matters most. Honestly being willing to do is often more important than the doing. Sometimes for me the willing is absent.

I’ll probably stay up past midnight, have the next year creep upon me, there will be no bells or whistles, no party hats, just me and my thoughts of the things not done.

I wonder how that opossum is doing because according to some web site they usually don’t live longer than a year in their usually environment.