I’ve always thought I had plenty of time.
No matter what happened to me, I had plenty of time to change things. I had plenty of time to try again. Plenty of time to fix my mistakes.
When I became managing editor of a small daily newspaper while I was still just 21 years old, I thought I was way ahead of schedule. I had plenty of time and I was going to live up to my potential. I was going to do great things.
When I started my own newspaper company in my late 20s, I was pleased with myself. But then my company failed by the time I was 30. But I still had plenty of time.
When I became a political consultant a few years later, I thought I was finally on track. Surely this was where I would make my mark. I was going to be someone important.
Politics led to a high income, but nothing of importance. I wasted 20 years. I ended up divorced. I had nothing to show for my life yet. But I still had plenty of time.

I haven’t learned to stop walking on eggshells around angry people
Knowing right choice years later is useless without time machine
Little girl’s happy ending reminds us not to be defined by tragedy
Surreal dream wakes, shakes me; which is reality, which is dream?
Why have I kept dreaming about baby in need for last two weeks?
When strangers tell us things we want to hear, we want to believe
Why do we ‘need’ the newest thing? Is that where people get their joy?
No, I can’t support your campaign; changing candidates won’t fix things