Reminds me of the poem by Philip Larkin, which Richard Rorty splendidly dissects in the"contingency of selfhood" chapter of his Contingency, Irony and Solidarity (a classic of relativistic existentialism), part of which goes like this:
Continuing to Live is the title of the poem and it's also a good motto for moving forward. I only have 3 more years before I'm out of the quaranta range.
And once you have walked the length of your mind, what
You command is clear as a lading-list
Anything else must not, for you, be thought
And what's the profit? Only that, in time,
We half-identify the blind impress
All our behavings bear, may trace it home.