I think about where my life has gone, the path it has taken. How different would things be if certain things hadn’t changed.

I think about what’s ahead, where I’m going, wondering if there’s any rhyme or reason to the direction.

Happiness is here, and yet elusive. What keeps me from more is part of what keeps me happy in the first place. Is it possible to have more? It is normal to want it. I still ache for something, then resent that I do. I want that carefree soul, but I’m not willing to let go enough to get it.