The Inner Monologue

At every turn in my life, I chose — or was pulled toward — what seemed the best path at that moment. Change any one of those choices, and everything that followed might have unfolded differently.

I’ve never believed in the idea of “following your bliss.” That sounds too clean, too romantic for how real life works. Life isn’t a single passion pursued to its logical end — it’s a series of crossroads where you do what you’re good at, and you try to do some good along the way.

If I’d taken a different turn, maybe I’d have become an engineer, a writer, a traveler, a teacher — or some impossible blend of all four. I’ve always had more interests than one life can contain. The truth is, I didn’t chase a dream so much as build a mosaic from what was available, what I could do well, and what could make a difference in that moment.

Looking back, that’s the pattern: a lifetime of practical choices that, in hindsight, form something close to purpose. Every path I didn’t take still exists in theory — a thousand versions of me living out alternate stories. But I’m not sure any of them would be happier. Doing what you’re good at while doing good may not sound poetic, but it’s honest. And in the long arc of a life, honesty has a way of leading you exactly where you’re supposed to be.