Somedays, all I want is to be incredibly successful in my career, make a big impact in some way, and be an important part of the world, someone that makes a difference to someone or something. Someone that leaves something behind, someone who is remembered. I see myself living in London or Los Angeles or New York. Other days, I am so tired of feeling the pressure to be successful (my incredibly self-imposed pressure), that all I want to do is move to some small island or beach town, and just work in a little shop or seaside hotel or something. Fall in love, live off the land, make our own food together, maybe make some babies together, write, and be at peace. I never know what I actually want. I never know what will actually make me happy.