I don't know if this even counts as a confession, or if anyone else has ever felt this kind of way, but I just moved for this new job, it's a really good opportunity I guess, financially speaking, and I'm 53 now, which isn't exactly young, and I thought maybe it would be a fresh start, you know, a chance to really buckle down and focus on the practical side of things, finally, after all these years of kind of just, well, doing my art and hoping for the best, and that never really worked out the way I thought it would, like, I never really made a steady living from it, just bits and pieces and a lot of just getting by, and I think maybe I always thought that if I just kept trying, kept making things, people would eventually see it, and understand, and that would be enough, but it really wasn't, not in the way that matters for bills and retirement and all that. And so I took this job, it's a good place, a big company, and I moved to a whole new city, which was supposed to be exciting, but it's really just been… hard, I guess, because everyone here seems to already have their people, their groups, their established circles, and it's like trying to break into a really thick wall, you know? I try, I really do, I smile and I make small talk and I offer to help with things, but it's like I'm invisible, or I'm just not… connecting, and I feel so much like an outsider, and it's really starting to get to me, after a few months of it. I thought maybe I was just being shy, or a bit awkward, which I can be sometimes, but it's more than that, it's like a deep, persistent loneliness that I didn't expect, not at this stage, when I thought I'd be more settled and just… happier, I suppose. Am I the only one who feels this way? Like I've messed up somewhere, somehow, and now I'm just adrift, even though I've done all the things I was supposed to do, the responsible things, the things that would lead to a stable future, and I thought maybe that would be enough to make me feel less like I've failed in the creative sense, but it's just made me feel like I’ve failed in a whole new way, and I find myself just sitting at home most evenings, looking at my old sketchbooks, and wondering if I made the wrong choice somewhere along the line, and if it's too late to fix it, or if this is just my life now, kind of quiet and alone and just… getting by again, but in a different city. It feels really BAD to admit that.