I don't have grand ambitions. I don't want to be a well-known researcher, win lots of awards, and be a revered professor. I don't want to be President or Senator or Representative at any level of the system. I don't want a recording contract or a major book deal. I don't want to show up in magazines and have everyone know my name.
I just want a husband. I want to love and be loved. To have children and raise them to love and be loved. I want a quiet, content life.
I know that there are many, many people who love me and who I love. But they have their own families, their own significant others, their own vacations and jobs and lives. My life intersects with theirs at certain points and for certain times, but there is no one who is mine and whose I am. So none of that seems to count.
And tonight, as the tears stream down my face and my hands shake sometimes from all this raw emotion, it's all I want. It seems like all I need to get through another day. And I don't have it.
