The car takes us along a long, winding drive, the kind reserved for the sort of place owned by people who… — Emma Newman

I’m still not even sure I believe that now. Sounds like the sort of bullshit my psych supervisor would say.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to live somewhere with a garden. I’ll be old but skilled enough to still have some consultancy work to pay for the space to grow real food. Hands in the dirt again. Doing something real. No people around. Yeah, that’s the dream. Strange how the things we rail against and hate in our youth can be the things we crave as we get older.

I made a mistake when I was young and didn’t know how the world worked and I have paid for it. Many, many times over.