When people ask me how long I’ve been here or how long I’ve been in Atlanta, I’ve started telling them that it will be two years in April. I guess that it’s been roughly 20 months now, but I like the other turn of phrase more so and 20 months doesn’t really mean much to me in terms of time. But every time I say that now and think about really how long it’s been, I cannot help but feel like it’s been two years of my life where I’ve accomplished nothing. I will be two years older. I was a young 24 when I started, and I am about to turn 26. That makes me feel old. I’m almost 26. No wife, no kids, no real sense of where I’m going, nor any sense of self accomplishment. Life’s not supposed to feel like this.