Sometimes, I wish life were like a screwdriver. I wish I could easily fix all the petty emotions, such as adult loneliness. In coming up on my 35th birthday, it occurs to me that I’m no less lonely than I was a decade ago living out on my own in Chicago with few established friendships, far away from the people that cared about me growing up. Being married seems to bring me no less longing for the intimate bonds of the group of friends I had growing up. Maybe it’s idealism or nostalgia, but I miss having that closeness at arms distance. I miss random stop bys, late night drives to nowhere, knowing that those people would do anything to comfort me. It makes me sad living so far from the people that would drop everything to celebrate my birthday if they could. But more than anything, I think this loneliness comes from a feeling of accomplishing so little, feeling as though I’ve had a positive impact on so few. I know it’s petty, as tears stream down my face, but I can’t seem to help but feeling so sad.