The Mediocre Middle-Age Monster

Photo by Ayo Ogunseinde on Unsplash

I turn thirty-six next month, and if you think that sounds like the start of a horror story, you’d be absolutely right.

But it’s not the kind of horror story where an axe-wielding psycho moves in next door. No, this is a tale of a far more insidious villain: mediocrity.

The kind that sneaks into your life dressed as routine and slowly but surely turns you into the Average Joe you once swore you’d never become.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that turning thirty-six is the end of the world.

I’m just saying it’s a little like getting all the way to the top of Mount Everest, only to realize you left your flag back at base camp.

You’re up there, but what’s the point if you have nothing to show for it?

I remember the days when I thought adulthood was a glorious land where dreams came true, and everyone had a purpose.

Then, adulthood arrived, and I realized that it’s less about dreams and more about making it through Monday without strangling someone in the break room.

Photo by Zachary Kadolph on Unsplash