It is what I didn't do with my life that haunts me.

 

You come to this place, mid-life. You don’t know how you got here, but suddenly you’re staring (30,40,50,60)  in the face.

You pause and look back down the years, momentarily there is a glimpse of the ghosts of other lives you might have led; but they are chimeras, all other avenues you might have, should have, explored all are just evanescent ghostly wisps.

Defeated you stop exploring the might have beens, and come to a reluctant acceptance that yes, you did that, you achieved this, but so much, so much, you didn't do.

I would like to say that one comes to an acceptance of one's lack of achievement, yes, have the humility to have reconciliation with yourself
My life is a sentence, poorly punctuated, gramatically inept, you see, it is what
 I didn't do with my life that haunts me.

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