A friend asked me, “So what are your next steps?” I found myself stumped for an answer. I’m someone who likes plans, the planning part more than the execution. Sometimes not even following through. No matter what though, I always have one. Seventy percent of my time is spent on drawing up drafts in my head of life paths, down to the forks, the curves, and the dead ends.

Yet this time, nothing came to mind. I had no next steps. I was simply looking forward to hours I can get all to myself, where I can forget that the world exists and the only thing that matters is me and whatever is in my hand — some wool, needles, an electronic pencil, an ukulele, or a guitar. That’s probably this Saturday, if I don’t spend it all sleeping. That’s it. And I’m perfectly content. I can’t decide if this is a good thing. The typical life roadmap, rat race never really appealed to me. If I’m being honest, I made up my mind a long time ago (read: when I was around 9) that all I wanted to do in life was read, draw, and play The Sims. Hey, nine-year-old me, we’re not so different despite all the years between us.

Peace and stability is all I ever wanted. The freedom to be myself and not have to do what society dictates. (A peaceful anarchist?) For the first time in a long while, I feel that freedom — and for what it’s worth, it’s more than enough.