Today is about the most ho-hum March 17th I can remember. So much is missing. Going back to 2014, I've been running in St. Patrick's Day weekend events. The only exceptions were when I was injured or COVID reigned. For the first time, I'm not racing this weekend and it's my choice. I just don't have the desire when there's no set start time, no after-race party, and no crowd. The atmosphere is just lost.
There are no good Irish pubs within probably 45 minutes. I'd love some good Gaelic action with the music and a cool Smithwick's, which by the way, is far superior to Guinness. Can't really get that on the Peninsula.
I'm just not that good a person. I don't know how else to say it. It is so tough for me to feel good for people when something positive happens for them, particularly when it's a promotion at work or finding love. Because I wonder why I don't get to have those kinds of things. I just exist, and that's it. It's ok when my guy friends find a girl. But nearly any woman I know falls in love and...I want to just strangle him.
Natalie got engaged, even though she was always in love with me. I know it, I felt it when we were together and she said it. Melissa has been dating some guy for 6 months. Her timeline is now a damn relationship chronicle. Gag me.
I don't want to feel that way. But I'm 39. My life is likely halfway over. I'm tired of being a decent and kind of handsome guy who's either too far away or not quite the right fit or the right age or too emotionally open or whatever else is wrong with me. My time is running out and fast.
And what impact can I have? I'm just a worker. I'm not a leader. I wasn't meant to be that. I feel like I'm just totally dispensable. After I die, I'll be forgotten within a few years and it'll be like I was never here.
The writer of Ecclesiastes was right. Meaningless. Everything is meaningless.
I'm sorry to be negative in this post. But I just can't shake it tonight.
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