Look man/girl/whatever,

I am in no to place to give advice to anyone. What I can tell you, is I would switch places with you. Straight up, fair trade. You take the good and the bad, and I'll take your good and bad.

I originally studied for Automotive Engineering, because I was told, "Do what you love, you'll never work a day in your life." So, I fell into that notion.

Here's what I can tell you about your hobbies and work life. They should be separate. They NEED to be separate. I loved working on cars, modifying cars, playing with cars, the whole time I was growing up. So I figured what better than to get into the field of designing cars.

Here's what didn't happen. I didn't get hired as engineer anywhere. I didn't get hired to assist in any projects. I didn't get hired.

Here's what did happen. I got hired at a BMW dealership in California to fix cars. They call this a mechanic, or technician. Mechanics get paid for what they do. Technicians get paid for what they know. For me, it didn't matter, I was the end-user of the product. Not the creator or anything involved and my suggestions didn't matter.

So I was involved in a few performance shops here and there. Putting a turbo on this, a turbo on that, a supercharger here and there. Whatever. I loved that. I loved seeing what ingenuity could do. Who says you can't supercharge this car? ... the book, that's who... and fuck the book.

A year in to this career at BMW, I got off work, and didn't even want to look at, yet alone touch, any of my own cars. Not even mentioning cars people paid me to touch. Fuck it. I hate cars. I hate being greasy. I hate the fact that when I tell people what I do, it's an instant nose-to-the-sky reaction. Fuck it.

So that is what I did. I said fuck it. This isn't me. So I went back to bartending, which is what I did in college... and to my surprise. I loved it. Sure, late nights, stressful conditions, bitchy customers, etc. It didn't matter. I loved it. I was hooked.

Next step from bartender? Manager... clearly. So I managed a chain restaurant that sells wings and sports. It's a big name here in the USA. I didn't make shit for money. I made 1/4 of what I did when I was working on cars, but, I was happy, right? I had no one to support but me, no kids, no wife, no SO, so fuck it. I fooled myself into thinking I was happy, that I was respected, that anyone gave two shits. So, I became unhappy again.

I attempted suicide twice in the last 4 years. I was in for 9 days, then the second time I was in for over a month.

Here's what I learned; Do what they think you WON'T do if you want to get out. Example. It's group day, they want you to talk about your problems, everyone else in this bitch is legit crazy, where here's me, just tried to kill myself. Fuck off, I ain't telling you shit, and they know that already. BUT, I do want to get out of here, so, say the bare minimum. Start eating like they say, start doing those stupid ass puzzles. That dumbass wooden, 3-d, puzzle of the santa maria still sits on that fucking shelf in their office. They will let you out. Free to your own devices.

Present day, I live alone in my own apartment. I manage a shit catering company that couldn't get anyone else to do it because their name is ruined in the town. I have 0 friends, I have 0 support. I have nothing. I have $1.48 until the first of next month.

So here's my advice to you.

Keep going to school, just enough so you'll never have to repay your loans. Don't look for a position for respect, you won't get it. Most of all, do whatever the fuck you want as long as you have a roof and a bit of food.

Good luck, and thanks for reading this fucking novel