Now everyone, at some point, has taken the time to reflect upon their lives. It may have been unconsciously, as you sat on that train ride home. Or perhaps it occurred during those few moments you had, just before you drifted off to sleep. In any case, it would be odd if you lived a life, never looking back on your past, soaking in all the experience you gained.

I was sick this weekend. Plagued, as I'd like to call it. If you have ever been sick then you know that there really isn't much you can do when you're diseased. You can try and stare at the television screen, but eventually the show or movie you are watching will be no match for the throbbing migraine you have developed. So instead, you decide to lay in bed, take a nap so all the pain will go away. But how long can you sleep? The weekend is forty eight hours. If you try hard enough you can sleep forty five hours. Maybe. But that still leaves us three hours to do what? Eat? Surely not, my stomach won't allow me. So instead, I guess I'll use those three hours to reflect. Oh the wonders of our brain.

So I got a little sidetracked. The whole point of my little introduction was simply to state one thing. I did a lot of thinking this weekend. And by a lot I mean just enough so my head wouldn't explode from all the information. I realized something this weekend.

I'm not a bad person. No. But I'm not a good person either. When was the last time I helped a person. I mean, actually helped someone. Not one of those silly things like giving a birthday present or doing the dishes but encouraging another person to pursue a better life? I always thought I was the type of person to go out and help others achieve their dreams but now I realize how mistaken I am. I go to my friends for my problems. But just this weekend I've realized that they rarely come to me for their problems. Perhaps it's because they don't want to burden me or because they simply don't feel the need to seek help. Or perhaps it's because when they are in trouble, I'm just not the person that comes to mind. Who knows.

The fact remains. If anything were to happen to my family, my friends, even my acquaintances, I would be devastated. But if anything were to happen to me, I somehow doubt they would be losing much.

I'm not suicidal. Just disappointed. Twenty years of my life has passed and what have I accomplished?

Work harder. I tell myself. Because obviously, you aren't working hard enough.