I fucking love old school Britney.
Resist the appeal of a storybook life, or else narrative patterns will become personal myths that poison your future.
You’ll break your life into chapters and set goals with three act structure and make friends and enemies according to archetype, all in a ridiculous attempt to trace your own character arc across the coming decades.
You’ll call this exercise dreaming, or worse, dreaming big, and your life will become a preamble to some distant happily ever after.
That would be a shame, because a storybook life is overrated. It is boring and safe and artificial as a teacup ride.