I was going to write about how lonely I am. But then I realized that's pretty much all I write about these days, and it's me beating a dead horse.

There's some kind of weird wall up. I have friends, lots of them, but as we get older, we each have our own lives and we're busy. So we're not there for each other as much as we could be.

But it doesn't matter how many friends I have out there somewhere living those lives, there is no one here living this life with me. My house is empty.

See? Same old story. I am not the kind of person that likes to be alone. Who are these people out there that say that it should be ok to be alone, and that there's something wrong with me if I'm not ok being alone? I'm ok being alone. I'm not ok being alone ALL THE TIME. Who are these people that say I should learn to love my solitude?

It's sorta chosen, in some ways I guess. There are more people I could maybe make efforts to spend time with, but it would be just that: efforts. I don't want to use someone. I don't want to hang out with people I don't particularly like just so that I won't be alone. That's not right for either party. It's the same as dating someone for that reason. I just wouldn't be able to keep it up. Maybe I could lie about it for a while, fake it. But not for long, it just wouldn't last.

Someone I know's daughter has Crohn's disease. I sat in her office today while she tried not to cry while telling me about it. She held it together very well. But I noticed the mother reaction. She was furious with the medical involvement, she was worried sick about her daughter, she was taking charge of things her daughter couldn't handle. She was MOTHER. For a brief moment I was so jealous. I was so impressed, jealous. I want to have a family so so much some day. I am so scared that I will never have the chance. That I'll be too old by the time. Or that I'll end up a single mum.

It dawns on me that this is it. This is my fear of 30. I'm not afraid of getting older, I'm not afraid of becoming ugly, wrinkly or useless to society. I'm afraid of missing my chance. And suddenly that chance time-limit seems much much shorter.

I am not old. I am not getting old. I am not looking old. I am not feeling old. But there are little niggly parts of me that are starting to cave.