I just finished a book called The Midnight Library. I plucked it from the Sci-fi shelves of the downtown Columbus library on a rainy Saturday morning.

Nora Seed, the main character, wants to die. She sees no purpose or meaning in her life. No love to have or give. But in-between life and death she finds herself in a library, full of books holding the infinite possibilities of lives she could’ve lived, versions of Nora she could’ve been.

What is the best way to live?

Every little choice we make branches off into a new reality the universe might hold for us. That’s an overwhelming thought. That the wrong choice could keep us from who we could be. Our maximum potential. But what if I told you all of the wrong choices and regrets have led us to a life that is uniquely our own.

There are many versions of me out there, created from every decision I made. Regret I have.

I could be the version of me who dedicated herself to ballet and became a professional dancer. Or the one who went to college in New York (she’s probably in debt). The one who moved away after college. The one who never went over to “Unkle Earls” (the house where I first met Jake). The one who kept practicing guitar after the pandemic and started writing music. The one who studied abroad for a whole semester and not just a summer. The one who submitted her writing samples for publication.

But I wouldn’t want to be. Even if I had a chance to pick up where those versions of me left off, they wouldn’t be me. My choices. My experiences. The kindness, big and small, that I’ve received, that I’ve given. The people I’ve met. People I’ve loved. They make me, me.

What if I told you that (almost) everything I didn’t do is still a possibility? Taking the perspective of possibility instead of failure. That life is vast and stretched out before me. More paths to take. Decisions to make.

I started doing ballet at a dance studio for adults. I’ve also started writing again, after a long hiatus. I’m on my own clock. There’s time to make mistakes. To quit. To try again. To give myself a second chance. Or a third.

But even with the perspective of possibility, I still get overwhelmed.

Looking down the scope of my life and imagining all of the choices yet to come. Knowing that I will have to continue to embrace change throughout my life even when I don’t want to. Learning that I can’t control everything. And that sometimes, not choosing, is still choosing.

I suck at change. I’m decisive in the present, but crippled by the thought of the future. The transition between what was and what is to come are some of the hardest moments to live through. It’s when you cannot yet see through to the other side. That’s how 25 feels.

As much as it sucks to be in a state of change you didn’t ask for, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

Because every challenge, every feeling shapes me. Wishing I didn’t feel so much, when I’m really lucky to feel so deeply, to love so fully and to be so in touch with the human experience.

So what is the best way to live? Is there a perfect path?

I have less than a clue. But I do know that there are endless possibilities no matter where you are in life. No matter how low you feel. Sometimes all it takes is a shift in perspective.