I want steak.
I want sleep.
I want to know why the spacebar isn't working here.
Where would I be now? If I didn't have the influence of having been told to be a doctor from the age of -2, would I even be here? Or would I be a classicist, living in Oxford, translating old texts for the mediocrity of mankind. Would I be a chef, running a little diner where 75% of the menu comes with gravy. Would I be an opera singer, struggling to prove my worth and my sad lack of perfect pitch. Would I be a yoga instructor and physical trainer, doing fitness competitions and being centered and at peace.
Hang on to your hats, folks. We may actually find out. 30 is the new 18.
