My contact lenses were being held hostage, my eyes were dilated and my optometrist was asking for career advice. Sometimes this happens at the hair salon, the bank, or at Taco Bell while I’m struggling to choose the fresco menu over a big fat plate of nachos. Everywhere I go, people want me to read their professional aura like I’m the Long Island Medium.
It’s cool, though– strangers are always willing to tell me their stories. I meet new people every single day and their tales are sad, inspiring, hopeful, and moving. Most people just need some validation and to feel like their voices are being heard.
All of these stories are different, but strangely the same. It’s a nice reminder that no one’s really got it figured out just yet…
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