Recently a mentor at work told a friend of mine,
"Most men die at twenty-five, but are buried at eighty."
I turn twenty-five this year... and I see exactly what he means.
It's being slowly jaded by the futility of most days.
It's about losing your passions, dreams, and ideals.
It's the realization that life isn't more than surviving today.
It's becoming a slave to the daily grind.
It's seeing most of your work being ultimately meaningless.
"Most men die at twenty-five, but are buried at eighty."
I turn twenty-five this year... and I see exactly what he means.
It's being slowly jaded by the futility of most days.
It's about losing your passions, dreams, and ideals.
It's the realization that life isn't more than surviving today.
It's becoming a slave to the daily grind.
It's seeing most of your work being ultimately meaningless.
