underthemaple:

Here I am, late at night, romancing the feeling of loneliness and being lost that has become so familiar, like the drink you don’t want, but can’t put down. Still feeling, at almost 37, like I don’t know where I’m going, or even where I want to go. One thing I have in my favor: the most amazing husband and daughter. So, that part of my life is fantastic. Everything else-what I’m doing here, how I can make this a better world for my having lived in it, how to find some fulfillment in hobbies or occupation, how to use what used to be a formidable brain to the best interest of all-that is so shrouded in mystery, it might as well not exist over that next hill.