I wake up in the morning to find a feeling of peace wash over me. As if my mind had been cleansed. I don't know why, but I feel happier than I have been in a very long time. I'm not going to waste this feeling; so, I jump out of my bed, walk to the kitchen and start my day with a big risk! I put three sugars in my coffee instead of one, as I think to myself 'BAM' it has begun. I grab the coffee, walk to the living room, sit on the polished wood floor and lean my bare back against the marble fireplace. I run my fingers through my brown hair, steal the smell of vanilla from the roasted coffee and gaze through the window at the sunrise. 'What the fuck happened yesterday? When did my life take such a wrong turn?' I think to myself. I wasn't always this repressed and dull. As a kid, I didn't dream of being a banker. I dreamed of endless list of careers as if my life was a blank canvas and I could paint whatever I wanted. The nine year me wanted to be so many things;

1. Become a Robotic unicorn hunter (not to capture it, in order to kill the unicorn, but to tame the unicorn so I could ride it to school every day.

2. To be film maker

3. To be a chef

4. To be song writer

Eventually, the first piece of my heart was taken from me when I found out that unicorns weren't real. As time passed my career choices matured bit by bit, but I realized that all those careers had one thing in common, they were all creative. So how the fuck did I take the leap from that, to working at a bank. I guess my desire to pull my mum and I out of poverty outweighed my desire to be happy. Yet the fucked-up thing is I was too late to pull my mum out of poverty by the time mum got sick when I was twenty-two, I was still broke. Time can be an even more merciless beast in the way, in as much as time never waits for you. That means that there must be two types of time, time as we subjectively see it when we are young, like slow-moving water and time as it actually is, a fast-moving river.

Suddenly I feel my fingers tighten around the coffee cup and jaw tighten. Not again, I think to myself. Maybe April is right I need to deal with my regrets otherwise these breakdowns will just keep happening. I force myself up, get dressed and before I can even let the dark thoughts from yesterday consume me, I'm in the car and on my way to Jackson's home to write the fuck it list.