There is the life that we seem to live, and then there is the life that we actually live. One might think I am this accomplished woman on the go, happily surrounded by her (certainly slightly over the hill, but) charming future husband, or her fabulous friends (of whom, obviously, she has many), and that I am all perfectly well-adjusted to the delights and the misgivings of existence.

While some of it might be true, this doesn’t take into account any of my moments of solitude, nor the inner monologue that’s constantly rolling inside of me.