It's certainly an adult conundrum: knowing what one once loved, and was drawn to, but could not have... yet now fully capable of possessing but not having the nerve to pursue it... being a coward and worrier in the face of potential acquisition.
Holding onto a dream for so many years is exhausting. But, after a time, it becomes a habit. And then it becomes an aspect of one's personality. Yearning becomes one's raison d'être. Achievement is somehow an after-thought.
I've dreamed for nearly a full decade to return to Thailand and make it my home. After living there for two years, then visiting several times for extensive periods, I've been nearly certain in my heart that I wanted to live there once again.
Yet now, with quite enough money, and stability, and far more practical-mindednes than I did when I was in my early 30's, I am lazy, doubtful, and somehow feeling I hardly deserve such a serious stab at happiness.
Yet I'm not dead yet. I have so much more life to live.
How did I get to this place?
It's like I would prefer the comfy blanket and opiate of familiarity and routine to the zest and serendipity of adventure.
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