A small part of me, just a tiny little piece, believes there’s a chance that sometime in the future, I’ll look around and realize I didn’t make it. That I’m still doing the same job, only now I work to live instead of the other way around. That I sacrificed my youth for a dream that didn’t pan out. That I’ve been so busy working on a go-nowhere career over the years that I forgot I was supposed to get someone to come home to. 

And that I’ll sit around and wonder, was it all worth it?