Unwritten

I used to think of myself as somebody really ambitious, someone really driven by their career. I suppose I still do. My life so far has been a testament to that notion - grades, institutions, stepping up to responsibility.

But lately I've been playing back the years in my head. Why did I choose to take a certain path over others; such a pedestrian, mainstream one at that too? What would have happened had I listened to my father on the car ride home all those years and pursued literature? I have the privilege of having the rare combination of parents who will let me be anything I want to be, and their daughter grew up thinking pursuing anything other than analytically driven roles was a waste of intellect. What a tragedy.

I guess I'll come back and finish this another day, but I'm beginning to wonder if this was the path I was meant for. Is anybody meant for anything really?