How much time do we really waste thinking “I really should…”

I just re-read something that coincidentally I wrote exactly four years ago today. I didn’t intend to read it because of the date; it was in an old file and I just happened to see it. However, after finishing it, it struck me that I was saying the same things about making change etc back then that I’m still saying now and was probably saying twenty years ago, so why have I not done it yet? Will I still be saying the same things in another twenty years, having made not the slightest inroad towards accomplishing my goals? Or perhaps they’re not really my goals after all? Perhaps I tell myself as such, just to reassure me that I’m on society’s pre-defined path, although to be honest, I’m not sure I really fit that mould anymore either.
Consequently, where should ‘trying to be a better person’ end and ‘trying to be the best version of me’ begin? I guess it’s time I found out as like everyone, I’m not getting any younger. However, this is one journey of discovery that I don’t believe can be rushed and the older I get I learn a little more about myself. Hopefully when I read this back in four years’ time I won’t still be thinking “I really should…”

Daily post prompt: Nightmare

I wake, trying to slow my racing heart.
It was a noise, definitely. Someone’s downstairs.
I grab my hairdryer (the only thing to hand) and slowly pull open the bedroom door. I can’t hear anything now but that doesn’t mean they’ve gone. Or did I imagine it? I was having a pretty intense dream when the noise woke me up so maybe it wasn’t in the house at all? Maybe it was in my head.
I exhale slowly, not realising I’ve even been holding my breath and head back from the landing into my room. I feel a bit foolish, although I’m sure to switch on the light before I get back into bed, just in case.
It’s only when I’ve pulled the duvet up to my chin and decided to read for a few minutes that I notice my wardrobe door swinging slowly open. I can’t see inside but I’ve got this horrible idea that there’s someone hiding there.
As I try to decide whether I should have a look or just call on a neighbour, the door springs open and he’s in the room. I don’t even have time to scream before it’s over. Then I’m standing over myself watching the scene unfold.
He’s trying to make it look like a robbery gone wrong and I want to shake him by the shoulders and tell him it’ll never work. The detectives have witnessed this sort of thing all too often and they’ll see through it straight away.
I bend down and whisper in his ear that he’ll never get away with it and for a second I’m sure he hears me, but then he’s tipping the contents of my handbag out on the bed and taking ten pounds cash from my purse, along with my bank card. I can read his thoughts; I’m inside his head as he wonders what my PIN is, but he’ll never figure it out. He’s none too smart this one.
To be honest, it kind of makes me wonder why I ever went out with him in the first place.