Dear Jayden,

This is an open letter I’m writing to you, to my past self.

You see, at the age of five I had my life planned out. It was something along the lines of this:

•         Go to school

•         Play soccer at recess

•         Become an astronaut

The truth of the matter is— I did not become an astronaut.

This is my alpha failure. The initial shattered dream of a child caused by laziness, lack of focus and distraction.

The alpha failure is safely suppressed during childhood. At age eight, I was well on my way to not becoming an astronaut but it didn't matter because I had a Nintendo. Mushrooms, princesses and pixelated racing cars were all that I required.

When I was a teenager, my failure to launch myself into space continued as there were now girls with appealing bodies playing tricks on my libido. Tight jeans and breasts had pleasantly distracted me.

Even as a young adult in college, my alpha failure was forgotten because it had been trumped by something else—partying and Jack Daniels.

This isn't like forgetting to pick up the milk on the way home. This is like forgetting to pick up the milk for 19 years and then when you remember the milk it's too late because the cows have all been killed and you're a security officer working in a hay plant.

It feels as if a young Jayden is looking up at me and asking me what went wrong and all I can say is: "I'm sorry. I was playing Nintendo, ogling women and drinking Jack and Coke. I totally forgot about that whole becoming an astronaut thing."

Sorry, little Jayden. You'll understand when you're older.

Sincerely,
 

Jayden Dowell