For the first time, in years, I've contemplated and was comfortable about it. I secretly and deeply long for a way out. But my fears and responsibilities are keeping me afloat. However the more I face them, the more I want to run, sink, dive, burn, fall, suffocate--to do something. I just keep thinking of my daughter. She's not even a year old--no where near it. I'm essential in her life. For now.