wouldn't it be great to lie in your deathbed and be 100 percent content with the way your life was spent? no regrets. Everything you dreamed of doing, done. Even a failure wouldn't be a bad thing, as long as you put in your best effort.
Yet, here I am. my bedroom floor is covered in junk and dirty clothes. I am unemployed, and scattered on my desk are at least a dozen short-term goals that I feel too discouraged to pursue (along with a slew of dirty dishes and unpaid bills).
I have started 7 full-length screenplays (120 pages each, on average) and of those I have one that has made it past the first 20 pages... and I'm planning to scrap it and start over. Sheesh.