Two years later I was still searching for that life light. I was riding up an elevator that had an expired safety clearance from the fire department, drinking burned coffee, and my life was at a standstill.

I wish I could have been like the other graduates in my class. They knew what they loved and knew they wanted to make a profession out of whatever it was they loved. I knew what I loved, writing and taking pictures, but I didn’t know if I wanted to get paid to do it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to lose the innocence I felt when I picked up a pen or pushed down the shutter button.

But no matter what I thought about past mistakes or really lack of assurance, the wheel on the mail cart needed to be fixed, the coffee brewed itself into a container singing its fragrant noise, and I moved with the routine of my life like the back of my hand. Because I could not stop myself, I could not reset the clock, I needed to keep up with myself and not get trapped with who I was.