When I was younger, I imagined I’d be married with kids by the age of 28. I imagined that I’d be a novelist, and my husband would keep the kids out of my study while I write my novels. That didn’t happen.
I’m in my mid-30s now, and I have yet to find that kind of future, or that kind of home. It’s likely I’ll just adopt kids if I hit 40 without finding a partner. I still struggle towards getting my novel published, but I can’t dedicate that kind of time to it as much as I want to… I get tired after work and it’s tough to focus on a fictional world after hours of being immersed in current news.
Still, it’s nice to dream.