Doubts

He wondered what it would be like if he had gone into something that wasn't, well, bound to make him poor for the rest of his life. At the end of the day he still didn't feel talented nor did he feel he had the personality necessary to boast about himself and continuously maintain shallow connections. He wondered if he had picked a good industry for himself.

What he did like was making things. There was a rewarding experience in that. To take raw materials and, with his own hands, assemble them and work them into something beautiful, that was what he loved to do, its why he loved to play with Lego blocks as a kid and why he often found himself stacking and clipping miscellaneous office supplies together in a pattern. Perhaps he was just feeling doubtful because he had yet to master the materials of this new creating technique. That, of course, frustrated him, because above all else, what he really loved was being good -- and he had yet to reach that.

A thousand voices screamed for him to just give up and do something else, and if it weren't for the fact that he was a stubborn ass, he may have listened. Instead he stood upright and let out a bellow that immediately silenced each and every of those voices. After all, no one ever became good by giving up. Besides, he was never one to take the easy road.