Not for all the things I want to do. Not if I had between now and the heat death of the universe.
I have so many stories I want to tell, and that number only ever grows. If I had the ability to do nothing but write and publish ten hours per day, every day, I might finish all the ideas I currently have for stories at every length by my 70th birthday. Maybe. And new ideas pop into my head all the time. Sometimes I even write them down.
The places I want to see and understand, the things I want to experience, the skills I’d like to learn, the books I want to read, the games of various sorts I’d like to play, the media I want to consume.
The people I want to know better.
The problems I want to fix.
The lists only ever get bigger, no matter how much you might manage.
There just isn’t enough time.
And there won’t ever be enough time for one person. Maybe, if we could all focus on the things we truly want and need for everyone to have the best life possible. But then there would have to be some agreement. For that, we’d all have to talk to each other and, more importantly, listen to each other.
It’s good to dream.
Be well, everyone.by