Twenty-five years in and life is fantastic. So many more plans in my head, but to be morbidly honest, if I died tomorrow, I would die satisfied with the short life I lived.
If you died tomorrow, would you be proud of the way you lived your life? Would you close your eyes with a faint smile of satisfaction? Would there be any hushed regrets, repressed dreams, that you held buried by the years? Would you wish in those last moments that you had done something that you had talked yourself out of because it was too childish, irrational, difficult or odd?
Not me. Perhaps that's a good measure of "success." To die satisfied with the years you've had - many or few.