I just turned 40, and it was less traumatic than I expected. I am conscious, though, that I have been living in survival mode for about a decade now and I want the next decade to be different. I grew up not far from here but always wanted to leave. After living in other places for 15 years, life has brought me back this way. Now I find myself in a staunchly red state and I am blue, blue, blue.
I miss the kind of writing I used to do when I was younger and had more time for navel-gazing--I'd just open a vein and bleed out onto the page. Now that ability is trapped under adult responsibilities.
I miss the kind of friendships I had when I was younger and could spend endless hours conversationally exploring over drinks
Those oceans are still in me, but now there is no one to navigate them with.