I turn 27 in 2 months. Do I still have enough time to make a million dollars by the time I’m 30?
From the looks of it, probably not. That dream ended the moment I started blogging and podcasting. And then I decided to go back to college. No idea what I was thinking.
Maybe I’ll have a million dollars by the time I’m 40. Or 50. Or maybe never. That’s right. Maybe I’ll never see $1,000,000 in my bank account (or however much that is in Bitcoin.)
But what will I have seen instead? By the time I’m 30, will I have seen all that trite, cliched stuff they talk about on the Hallmark channel? Will I have filled my memory bank with live laugh love?
By the time I’m 30, will I be jealous of 30-year-old millionaires? Will I wish I had done that instead of this, invested in this instead of that, got that job instead of this one? Will I look at the path that I’m on and be OK with it? Will I still have the courage to pivot if I’m not happy with what I’m doing? What if I don’t have kids and what if I’m not married yet and what if I’m not reaching all the other supposed benchmarks of a successful life?
Well, who cares about those benchmarks? I know having kids and financial stability are meaningful goals. I get that. But I could end up having kids and financial stability and be an asshole. What if simply not being an asshole to other people was my primary objective in life? Taking it a step further, what if I extended that to myself? Not being an asshole to myself — what if that were the goal as well?
Whatever happens, I hope I’m not an asshole by the time I’m 30. I hope that any lack of accomplishment doesn’t turn me into a bitter jackass.