Me apetecía decirlo en ingles

We grow old, we feel ashamed... as more sorrounded in complexity. And here, the boss, and here the feeling of emptiness, the greed, and the memories… The memories come climbing my back. It isn’t the first time. They whisper in my ear some words I’ve listened before. But they still hurt as the first time. “we grow old, and as we grow old, we feel more ashamed”… Ashamed of what, I wonder. Of ourselves I suppose. Then I have this strange feeling of leaving it all behind. And I need to sign a paper, I need to sell my soul. I need to be nothing, because all I have, is hate, envy, and a sort of bad feelings all in row. Was it worth? This way of living, where you get the best of you at the very beginning, and as you walk, you just end up finding darkness? As I look at both sides, I see people in a similar position in which I am. We feel warmer because we’re not alone in this highway to nowhere. But is that enough? I don’t think so. For me is not enough. Not because we all are going to the same way of destruction I feel better. I’d like to break it up. I’d like to avoid these references. I’d like to build my own path. I’d like to put my strength into my passion. I’d like to stop rot.