I climbed that mountain. The really famous one, the one everyone talks about. Got up there for sunrise, a proper backpacker thing, right? The clouds were like a sea, pink and orange and purple, just stretching out forever. You know, like in the pictures. Everyone always says how breathtaking it is, how it changes you, how you feel this incredible sense of awe. This huge thing, this accomplishment. But I felt… nothing. Just nothing. I looked at it and it was pretty, sure. But that feeling, that deep down feeling of *wow* or *I did it*, it just wasn't there. It was like watching a really good screensaver. And that’s the thing that's been bugging me, every single day since then, every day I wake up. I keep thinking, is something broken inside me? All this effort, all this struggle to get there, and for what? Just a pretty picture in my head that doesn’t even *feel* like mine. I’m getting older, you know. Late 50s, pushing 60. Been hustling for so long, gig to gig. No benefits, no steady paycheck, just trying to keep my head above water. Always told myself, someday, I'll do something big. Something that means something. And this was supposed to be it, I think. This mountain. But now I'm here, staring at my phone at 2 AM, and I feel like I just wasted a lot of time and a lot of money to find out… what? That I missed something crucial somewhere along the line? That the real awe, the real feeling, was for other people? It’s like I messed up, somewhere back there, a long time ago. And now, I don't know if I can ever get it back.