For a long time, I believed I was doing things the right way.
Working, growing, building something stable. It felt logical. It felt productive.
But it also became… everything. I’m in my early fifties now.
Over the years, I managed to build a career that gave me security and comfort.
I can’t complain about that.
From the outside, things look organized.
Even successful, depending on who you ask.
But daily life doesn’t always reflect that feeling.
My evenings are usually quiet. I get home, leave a few things on the table, and sit down for a moment before moving on with anything else.
Sometimes I check my phone. Sometimes I don’t bother.
There isn’t much waiting for me there. I was in a relationship years ago.
We didn’t end badly. We just stopped going in the same direction.
At the time, I told myself it was the right decision. I needed to focus on my work.
I remember something she said once, near the end.
“You’re building a life… but I don’t think you’re building it with anyone.”
I didn’t think much about it back then.
Now I do.
A few days ago, I woke up earlier than usual. No reason, really. I just didn’t feel like following the same routine again.
So I left the house without planning anything.
Hello nice to meet you. Very interesting.