I kept wondering what my purpose was supposed to be, convinced it was the missing piece to a life well lived. It followed me everywhere, even when I tried to ignore it. This is the story of what I learned when I finally looked closer.

Writing, for me, is how I make sense of myself. It’s how I pull a thought out of my head and onto the page so it doesn’t just float around in there.

Right now, the world feels like one massive family stuck in a car on a too-long road trip.