I was good once, I was clever once, back then I was better.  Now I am not what I was, and my hopes for what I will be are shaky.  The middle one is the worst out of the past, present and future me.  Or is it.

The past is now an air-brushed version of reality, full of successes which were straight-forward to achieve, and clearly laid-out milestones.  I ran through all of them with the certainty that this is where I was supposed to be, what I was meant to do.  It wasn’t all easy, but the hard parts have gone into soft-focus now, and most make sense too.

Now is different.  Now is full of routines, some that I have created to re-make a day-sized version of the road map I had before.  I miss the frequent recognition of my worth, the praise for my regular achievements, the salary too.  I miss adults.  Children’s conversations are of another world, and another vocabulary.   I’m getting more fluent, but miss my own words.

There’s a true wisdom about savouring the present, living for the moment, watching you don’t let it pass by un-noticed.  It is a cruel truth though, that you only savour what is passed, you only value what you miss.

The future is unknown.  I’ve already kitted it out with a city’s worth full of worry and pessimism.  Do I look back on the past, focus on the present and anticipate good things amongst the bad?  Rarely.  For some reason, fear always seems more concrete than hope.  And yet I want to get better at that.  It’s my non-SMART goal.

Standing back from past, present and future,  I think I can see 3 versions of myself, and, funnily enough, they all look like me.