What's the point of this?

I'm working here on the basis of my art, what it's after, what it's to do. I have to be honest with myself about art at this point in my life. I'm 35, almost 36 and what does that mean? I am thinking about my mortality. I think I have known true love in this life and that person has now passed away. Our time together was relatively short and when we were younger, in our late teens to early twenties and for about a year and a half. It makes me wonder now more than ever about devotion and steady belief in what one is doing. I perhaps could have had a life with this person were I to have made different choices and carried myself a little differently. I guess I wouldn't be me then, but it seems to me like "some fine things were laid upon my table" but they weren't mine to keep.

I was listening to Jackie Evanco this evening. What an amazing voice and spirit. I will never have a love that blossomed through my twenties and lasted into my thirties. I am not quite even sure what I would like from here on out. I remember that true love though. I remember how amazing it was. The world seems a sad place to me yet I have always sought solace in the tales of woe wrought in iron and mixed in pigment, sewn with notes or the spoken word. Art is a place in this life where we can, if we are willing, if it pleases us, if we be called to do so, shine.

I used to be filled with such wonder. Perhaps, I think, I lose that wonder in my life as I delve into art. I lose that life that I should be living in the pursuit of the great white whale, a masterpiece and bit of legend even a shadow of what very well may be a very far away greatness from where I stand and reckon. I could have had love simple with an absolutely wonderful young lady who appearantly became an even more amazing woman. But I made other choices. I took other paths. And now she is no longer a path, no longer a living flame to warm my heart and my dreams of what love can be like when it is true.

I sought art. I had a mental breakdown. And now I seek art again. My life is lonely though I may well know myself better this way apart from love of another. What for though? What is the point of that?