So basically, right now I am doing everything I rebelled at earlier.
I am walking down the road my Dad paved and repeatedly asked me to walk.
Right now, refusing to walk down that road back then seems to be one of my foolish decisions. Yet had I walked that way back then I wouldn't have tasted living my dream.
It feels absurd.
But I am not in a mental shape to analyse such absurdity.
I lived the dream, then death took it away from me. And death put me back "willingly" on a track that I "willingly" left once.