A week in 2015

In a week, I leave for Japan. My conversation with Courtney and the long string of goodbyes is making this seem as though I’m marching off to my death. In many ways, I feel that I am. The fact of the matter is: I’m not young anymore.
I’m 29. Going to Japan pretty much ensures that I won’t ever have a wife or a family. I’ll be there, then I’ll come back, and when I return . . . who can say how old I’ll be? It’s not that I necessarily want these things, but I want to know they’re still possible.
People are asking me why I’m not as excited as they thought I’d be. After all, I’m living the dream. Still, it’s a bit rougher when you realize that living the dream means giving up a whole lot at the same time.