It feels strange to move without some kind of practical driving force; yet in looking ahead at the next decades of my life, I want to spend my time in a place I enjoy.
It’s easy to second-guess decisions. What if I’d gone to another school? What if I moved to a different city? What if I took that other job? But I hadn’t before been in a situation where I so clearly saw the results of the choices I didn’t make.
Part of my first paycheck went to celebratory cupcake ingredients.
I’d exposed the fact that by age eighteen, I had learned that someone would always, always be better than me at everything.