The Life That Could Have Been.

In another December journal entry as I near the end of 1993, and the end of my tenth year, I reveal my fantasy of the future. Aside from the obvious desire to marry Patrick and own a turquoise evening gown, I was shocked to confront the life I imagined. 

I wanted to go to Yale. I wanted to be an actress for one year after college. Then, after I got that out of my system, I wanted to go to medical school and become a "well loved" pediatrician. I wanted to live in a house on a cliff looking out over the ocean in Maine. Something old and cozy and quiet. 

The last sixteen years have, I guess, been longer than I thought. I went to NYU. I stopped taking science my sophomore year... of high school. I am scared of the doctor. I acted for four years after college, only to realize I was spending all my time writing and was happier doing that. And I live in New York City in a studio apartment with a lovely view of the building across the way which has bigger windows and more floor space. 

I gotta ask: What the hell happened here?