Reviewing my Twenties, Part I

It very recently occured to me that I have been selfish. The last four years are seeming more like a dream every day. The time has passed as in a modern novel; I can flash back to the events but am wondering if there was any meaning. It all ended in such a shitshow. I was a nervous wreck. My marriage almost ended. I trembled. Instead of feeling fearless and accomplished, I felt flung out into space, without home or self or ground beneath my feet. I am still recovering from this spoilt adventure. And I am angry about this, because this trip was supposed to save me, but it's almost as if the journey pur growth on hold. Though there are more than numerous moments I can recall that were joyful and enlightening, that cracked my world open, right now all I have left is feeling lost. Being back, I feel connected with the old emotions, but also detached. I wonder how I let it all get away from me. When I lost my ambition. Why no one questioned my torpor and lack of discipline. I was unemployed. broke. aimless. drifting. depressed. strange. It didn't bother me; I was in a fog, sometimes contented enough. I feel angry for this lapse. I could have been doing so much more. But I didn't. I waited. I remained tight in a bud. And then I tried to blossom. But that also stung and I got strung out and all was terrible. Here's another opportunity. And yet I feel so behind, catching up with myself, as well as with my peers and contemportaries. I suppose I have to follow natural time and my own true path. I am striding toward the horizon once again, looking back quizzical, forward momentum finally mine.