There's this moment when you got to realize that who you are and what you do are not the same.
You have to decide what matters.
You have to decide where you're going, 'cause, baby, that's the only way you'll ever figure out how to get there.
(Driving three roads in opposite directions can't really be that fun.)
The first stop is where you decide whether to drop your backpack on the ground in front of the first nice town that passes you by and decide whether you're going to settle.
The second signpost asks whether you turn to the right hand or to the left. I went both ways and never looked back.
I'm looking back.
How do I meet myself back in the middle? (Good question, but aren't they all?)
Somebody forgot that the journey never was the point.
I'm looking forward.
What stands at the end of this road? (Whatever I choose.)
Just choose the road.