Do What Makes You Happy.

I have embarked upon the most selfish of efforts, tonight.

Our orders to Syracuse have been changed:

The order was initially for a Senior Master Sergeant - my Father's rank - and would pay somewhere around $4,000, while putting me very close to all my endeavors.
It fostered this sense of safety, and safety allows me to neglect the supposed youthful mistakes that are duty-bound to arise around one my age.

The order is now tailored for a Master Sergeant - it is still available to us.
If we take it, my father will be making $1,600, and he and my mother - I will not say 'Us', because that will be something I will try and escape in New York - will still be subject to the moving fees that they are still mildly haunted by, because the price for us, as a whole, to move here was rather respectable.

Our family has once again resumed this state of Coals.
My father is most troubled - he brings up the moving expenses, the flatlining pay.

My mother tries to encourage my sister and I - she says we may take Syracuse at a loss, and that there is still a wild-card chance that my father's associates can put the job back to the Master Sergeant rank.

My sister told me she was sorry for me.

There's just a bunch of swarming lights, like when you stir coals. I can't make sense of it, and neither can my family.

However, I have resolved it: I am going to New York.

"I came here alone after graduating from a European college. I had a difficult struggle, earning my living at odd jobs, until I could make a financial success of my writing. No one helped me, nor did I think at any time it was anyone's duty to help me."

It is not anyone's duty to help me.
I will not plead with my parents to have them do anything at a deficit for me.
I think. I am. I will.

I will it.

I will do what I can, for what I may earn, and it will be mine.
I will undergo the difficult struggle for what I desire.

The education I want - I will make it.
The career I want - I will have it.
The person I want - I will meet him.

Throughout the centuries
There were men
Who took first steps
Down new roads
Armed with nothing
But their own vision.

May I be one of them.