I remember a time when I didn't have a clue what I'd be when I'm older. What car I'd drive. What house I'd live in. Who I'd marry. I greatly miss that mysteriousness.
I have "acquired" all of those things and it leaves me feeling empty inside. It shouldn't though, of course. I keep feeling like there's nothing more. But there is. So much more.
I want to flick my mind. I want to turn off whatever part of my brain prohibits me from being a child with my children. I want to think like them and feel like them. But I am just annoyed at everything and everyone.
I am tired. I am no more a dreamer.
