So, on top of my life falling apart, I get a meme calling me a fascist just cause I think people should do what they’re good at. Figures.
I guess it’s difficult for people to get where I’m coming from. Kids who grow up on farms are supposed to spend their teens longing to get away to the big city. My school buddies did. Carla did. But I was happy with where I was and what I had. I knew I was where I belonged. Mom and Dad never got that. They always wanted me to have some ambition beyond the farm.
Way I always saw it, I had the W4, why did I have to go anyplace else to do what I wanted? Why would I go to college to draw comics when there’s hundreds of online vidcast courses I could do from here? I only agreed to go on that Extreme Research thing to get my folks off my back about “new experiences” and “meeting people”. Sure, I enjoyed it, I had new experiences, I met people. But what good is meeting somebody you never get to see again? What good is wanting to be somebody you’re not, and going looking for things to want other than what’s right in front of you?
Now, all those opportunities everybody bugged me to go chasing after are gone, and all anybody wants is to know where the food’s coming from. Everybody’s got to re-evaluate their ambitions. A farmer is pretty much the best thing you can be now. Staying here turns out to be the best career move I ever made. It’s just a shame my family will never know it.