So much of life is spent on autopilot. Years pass by, then decades. The more time passes, the more we lose sight of who we wanted to be, and the more we accept who we’ve become, despite the gap between our hopes and our reality.
We recognize the dissonance, but explain it away because the dreams of our youth are, we believe, impractical. It’s not realistic or responsible—and may even be selfish—to harbor, let alone act upon, deeply held desires for something more out of life, right?
