Achievement emptiness: You're Not the Only One

i got the call today like it was just a normal tuesday and they told me i got it. …

I am sitting here tonight looking at a small oil landscape that has followed me through four different law offices, and I find myself overcome by a profound sense of occupational regret.

I'm staring down retirement in eighteen months after thirty years in the service, and for some reason, I keep thinking about Christmas 1978. …

I guess I’m just wondering if anyone else sort of spends their life waiting for the real part to start, or if this is just... …

You ever just sit there at 2am and look at your life and want to set the whole thing on fire?

I don't even know why I'm typing this out at two in the morning because it's not like it's a huge tragedy or anything, people lose jobs all the time, but I've been walking through the warehouse… …

I spent twenty goddamn years climbing this ladder and all I found at the top was a fucking view of a parking lot. …

You’re the one holding the juice boxes while everyone else is talking about the regional manager or the next promotion cycle. …

I am sitting here in this tiny apartment in Milan—well, it’s actually a pretty nice studio that the program paid for—and I just feel like a total fraud. …

By mile twenty, my lungs felt like they were full of hot sand, but my legs... …

it's 2am and the city looks like a circuit board from the 44th floor, all neon veins and zero pulse. …

I'm 39 and I've spent the last four years and every cent of my savings on this MFA. …

It’s bird’s-eye maple, perfectly sanded, finished with three coats of food-safe oil, and it’s beautiful, I guess. …

I’m sitting on the floor of my kitchen at two in the morning and I’m staring at sixteen identical glass jars of artisanal pasta like they’re going to tell me the meaning of my fucking life.

I’m walking past this tiny patch of dirt on 4th street, just a couple of wooden crates and some pathetic-looking tomatoes tied up with twine, and the smell of the wet soil just HITS me like a… …

you know, the big corner office on the 40th floor with the glass walls and everything. …

I’ve been at the same desk for 14 years now. …

It’s called petrichor... …

I'm forty-two and I'm sleeping on a thin mattress that smells like old feet and laundry detergent in a room with seven strangers. …

I’m sitting in my truck right now—the heater’s broken so I’m just shivering and staring at the neon sign for the diner across the street—and I can’t stop thinking about how much of a fucking fraud I… …