Such is life indeed.

You reach a certain age when the only direction you can look at is behind. Behind is unambiguous. When you hit that age your future is no longer clear and every dream you ever had becomes just another 'Dad, when I grow up I wanna be an astronaut' line.

When we were younger I'd bet that we were much wiser. We had clear goals, didn't we? We had more things. Everything we ever wanted, we found at our feet. We painted a picture from Disney's Aladdin with our fathers taking turns to pose as the genie. Your wish is my command, they said. It must have been like one of those wooden boards that you find at parks with holes in which you can place your head and have your picture taken posing as a cowboy, an alien, or fucking Bambi.

Dad, I want a lollypop.

Dad, I want more money.

Dad, I don't want to join the army.

I look back at the things that I wanted to do or be and wonder what might have happened if…

If only strikes back again; the latest yet toughest comeback in history. It strikes when you're usually in need for comfort.

When you realize that everything that you own ain't really your cup of sunshine. It's a fact of life, aging. Year after another I learn that destiny ain't that lollypop and ain't that wooden genie board with the hole in it. I've learn that that lollypop that I've been sucking on ain't really a lollypop in the true sense; that the board with the hole in it, ain't really a board; that the money that I've been asking for can only be my retirement pension.

It's not what you do. It's who you blow.

And ain't that a fact?

Ambition ain't exactly what our daddies taught us. It's no longer the matter of looking at the bright side. You can't just ignore the dark side. It's right there, looking you in the eyes, waiting for you to look the other way. It strikes when you're at the peak on the graph of glorious endeavor… and the older we age, the darker it becomes. It ain't about how big your shotgun is or how indispensable you were when you were five. We grow up and demand more things, some of which we get. But then again, inevitably we reach the age when things start being taken away from us instead… and the fact of the matter is there ain't much that we can do about it at that point. We're weak then and helpless… and vulnerable. The keyword here is unorthodoxed.

Dad, I wanna travel the world…

…but you find yourself off the grid without even moving. The cannon blows you off and away into a dimension of proportions that you try but fail to understand. WTF just happened doesn't really begin to describe your melting state of mind. Your mind begins to question its own cover, its hard shell that just got shattered leaking out liquid into a frying pan. Your thoughts become an omelet that you can't even swallow. Near the end you wish for a disco ball to shine over every dark landscape that you sadly dwell on, even if the light it reflects is a palette of fake colors over a crystal clear void of insignificance.

Dad, I want to feel precious again.

That is the age where you settle for anything.

Dad, I want to breathe.