Drive, she said.

The lovely Ethereal Girl has posted a wonderful essay on her personal blog, Amethyst. Girlfriend nails that itchy, melancholy, "put me on the road to anywhere, pronto" mid-life angst. The feeling that it's too late to have the life that you want, and that if you had it to do all over again, you probably wouldn't do it any better.

Fear. Of failure. Of success. Fear. Of feeling. Of longing. In my head, it reverberates a foolish unbidden mantra: Just drive. But I won't. I won't because anywhere I go, I'll arrive with myself and the nagging longing and the unanswered questions and the half-over life in tow. And I can drive around the world a million times over and never be rid of it. If I can't accept the path of least resistance and I can't bear to drive right over the cliff of uncertainty then I'd better find a path that leads somewhere deep inside to the heart of this matter and turn shape this wanderlust and unanswered longing into something that will bring me purpose and peace.