Some people spend their lives chasing gold, but they can never see it shine. The sparkling, glistening, preciousness gets dim after long enough. In the process they lose themselves, their vision slowly engulfed in pitch black as their focus narrows yet further. Eventually only a faint glow in the distance remains; that is all that they know, and pursuit consumes them. When they reach it, they will find it tarnished, lackluster. They weep, for they feel as though they have wasted their life in pursuit of riches.

Others, they chose another path, whether family, art, or passion. They will never be wealthy; they live to create, even to the detriment of others. Nights spend hunched over an easel, or a tablet, or a keyboard, or a mixer. Money left on the table in choosing freedom over earning. If they reach their goals, they will find achievement to be unfulfilling, if not hollow. Likes and adoration don't keep the lights on. Their gold isn't material but spiritual, though the pursuit is no less furious. They weep, in hunger, or destitution, or in lacking.

Father time is undefeated; age comes for everyone alive. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Regret will try to creep into everyone's life eventually. The color fades from the artist's flower the same way that the vigor slumps from the worker's body. Ambition fades like the pink from a rose, and regret catches up with everyone, I suppose.

I've worked hard, and achieved a comfortable life, so its easier to sleep at night, now. Easier, but not foolproof. Sometimes, rarely, when I can't sleep, I walk the road at night. There's no yellow lines, only the shoulder to guide me. The path is narrow, and treacherous, but I wouldn't choose any other. On the road of life I found myself in a small town that you'll never visit, and the woods wrap around me like a Carhartt jacket.

You can't put a price tag on being the person that you truly are. It always sounded like dumb advice, "just be yourself", every time you heard it when you were younger, but believe me, there's no other way to be. Embrace being a nerd, or a foodie, or a hillbilly, or a bottom, or an artist, or whatever it is that makes you *you*.

What am I? I'm a computer nerd, a kitchen commando, a booze bag, a lover and not a fighter, a homebody, an outdoors MF, a wordsmith, an internet denizen and part-time troll, and a gentleman of leisure.

What are you?