I'm sitting here on my little patio in a rare moment of quiet. My baby is long asleep and my husband is too. The dishes are done. The laundry is folded. The floor swept. My "life" is in order. That's where the trouble starts. I'm realizing more and more that while I love my life and who I've become, there is no depth to me. I'm sure you, my friends, would beg to differ. (at least I hope) However, you are not there in the small hours of my life. The defining moments. Am I more then the titles I've been given? Are they what defines me? I have goals; though they are little known. There are so many things that I aspire to that I haven't even begun to do. My main goal: to be passionate. I want to have fire in my life. I want something to consume me. I don't want it to be something that I disregard my "life" for but I want to do something with a fervor that I've never felt. To be perfectly honest, I feel a little dead. Where do I find that passion that I see in so many others? Is it something I can acquire or am I out of luck? Am I dumb to even want this? If you have any suggestions, please send them my way. Until then, I'll keep you posted.
{me}
