I have a notebook. Purchased in 2016. Entries based on life and the changes I have sought. I have seen some come to be. Lost a bit. Won not much except friendships and higher pay. Which is truly something. Time now. Move on. I have listed new goals in the notebook. Telling myself by the time I arrive on the final page. All will be well. I am seeking. Direction. Guidance. Hope which I have never quite lost but have quite certainly allowed to disipate. Time has a way of showing up. Screaming reminders of my age and station. Could it be too late? Although it’s never. Except it is. Reality is harsh yet reality is where the truest resides. The peace. The ultimate reasons. All that’s ahead. Tangible. The notebook on my lap as I write. Pen in hand. Conspiring.