The writing prompt makes me wonder if re-living this year would change anything, or whether I just got to make the same choices the same way to feel them again. Whether I could change anything or not, it would be 36. It was absolutely the worst year of my life, but there was a random meeting that set my life on fire.
If I couldn’t change anything, I would still want to enjoy the thrill of that one random meeting, because it grew into a forest fire.
If I could exert influence, I would make that year less terrible by trying to pull off some version of a normal person.
I was too arrogant because I thought I was funny.
I wasn’t.
Stories That Are All True 