To withdraw myself from myself has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all.
I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it’s drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless and I know it’s not cheap. Probably not even real.
—Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves
Just because things hadn’t gone the way I had planned didn’t necessarily mean they had gone wrong.