You have no idea how high I can fly. (Michael Scott)

Ironically enough, I think it was my attempt to control things that was pushing my life so far out of control. My life was like the jar on the top shelf. I was reaching for it but I could just touch it, not grasp it, and as I did I nudged it further and further away.

The only thing that really mattered to me then was the only thing that ever mattered: power. But I felt more powerless than ever before. Hell, the man who tried to kill me was living in my apartment. I was messing with a pair of roommates. I was living in an operational meth lab. Though my life was admittedly overwhelming, I was determined to keep my head above water.

I walked out of the boys’ apartment. I stood in the empty courtyard covered with the debris from the Hundred Party the night before. I inhaled the sweet smell of spilled cocktails sticking to the cobblestone.

“What now?” I said aloud to the empty courtyard. “What do I want to do next? I can’t return to my apartment.” I sighed. “Big picture: what do I want to do? I’ve been accepted to study business – I’m already a tycoon in my own right. I’ve been accepted to study political science – I could be quite the politician, maybe president. I’ve been accepted to study law – being a lawyer could be quite beneficial to my lifestyle. What do I want to do? What do I want?”

I stood there and was perfectly still for a moment.

Then I whispered something to the world.

“I want to fly.”