It's 1815. I've got to leave for work in the next few minutes.

I'm not so sure about this, about this life I've found myself living. I don't know what I expected, or if I even had a clear idea of what I thought this would look like. I do know that I don't know how to navigate the situations in which I find myself.

I am unsure.

I've done a lot of thinking lately about what I have left. It feels and seems as though everything has been taken away from me, either by circumstance or by lack of opportunity. I'm starting, blasted timing, to see what it is I want. And am nearly powerless to do anything about it.

Where do the roots of confidence and endurance lie? Maybe, is it that confidence stems from the parent root of endurance?

It's late, or rather early. I'm sitting here wondering what I've gotten myself into, whether it'll prove to be as good of an idea as it seems like right now.
Don't know if I've got the commitment necessary for a blog.
Or the desire to write anything of any honesty.
But, we'll give it a go.