At some point of life, you will realize that you have stopped living your life. You are just trying to get to the next day. Just living in the thought of tomorrow. You are not living, you are just waiting. And the trouble is, you do not know what you are exactly waiting for.
In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud, Beyond this place of wrath and tears, Looms but the horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years, Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.