 Maybe I would have hated myself no matter what. Maybe it doesn't matter what path my dad chose at that crossroads in the Oklahoma City airport. If he never met Dave and never believed, maybe I'd still have the same self-loathing. If I grew up communist, like my parents, maybe I'd be like, ugh, I'm such a bourgeois, capitalist, worthless piece of s***. I need to write another self-criticism and do another struggle session.