Life. Just when you think you finally have a plan, that you've managed to finally grab a hold of the reins--however risky the decision was--something totally out of your control falls out of the sky. Hits you like a brick wall, like a slap in the face, a punch to the gut, all of the above? You're angry, disappointed, scared. And there's nothing you can do, little anyone else can, and so you simply just try not to dwell and dread on the future for every waking moment of your day. And yet, an intrinsic stubborness, something that rises up out of the evolutionary survival-driven abyss pushes you forward, keeps you from spiraling into misery. The unused gears in this repressed mentality begin to whir, their determination providing a new sharpness, a new focus. You draw up a new primal conclusion: you are done letting people get in your way, of bringing you down, of threatening your deepest dreams that you've worked so hard to begin. No more bending over backwards; enough is enough. It's time to shed the soft skin and grow some scales, even if it means disapointing some people yourself.
And so you plot.
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