How does one again find purpose when his life is awash in grief? I am lost at sea, and on the horizon, I can see my trajectory, and the longer this lostness churns, the more concerned I become about my mental wellbeing. Most of my life has been lived alongside some sort of mental malaise, and buried deep in the back of my mind is an idea, a notion that maybe, just maybe, this will be the thing that brings me down. So I must find purpose. For the previous six months, A. was my sole purpose. I dedicated nearly every waking moment to her. I was as devout as a human being can be. And now, not only have I lost that purpose, but I lost the woman with whom I spent the previous decade. I’ve lost nearly everything. And what I haven’t lost remains tattered and frayed, and the stitches are struggling to hold. Purpose, please. don’t elude me.