Every time I'm not reading, I'm thinking about reading.
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In a weird way, this was exactly the essay I needed at this time. It might be a little bit later to start taking my life seriously, but late is better than never.
Every day I grow older, I feel like the gap becomes more and more apparent. It's lines like these that remind me that I still have time and only if I truly want it:
At 22, the discrepancy between the people that consistently work hard, and those that don’t is pretty small. Not enough time has passed for the rewards of good decision making to pay off. Now at 29, the returns are compounding, and you can see that some are changing gears, and leaving the rest of the pack behind. These people, are serious people.
If we started from essentially the same place, why has he squeezed so much more success in the same amount of time? Easy. He was always a serious person, and I only became one when I was like 25. He’s always done the small things that add up. He shows up on time. He fulfills his commitments even if he doesn’t feel like it. He doesn’t waste his time getting involved in petty squabbles. He says what he means, and solves his problems instead of wallowing in them. He’s dependable, and knows that if he wants something, he has to go out and get it instead of waiting for the world to give it to him. He keeps a cool head in times of stress and makes prudent decisions. He’s not humourless (far from it), but he takes his life seriously - and you can tell that he does by just being around him for 5 minutes.
I regret not taking my life seriously sooner.