Amid the era of ultimate girl bosses and side hustles, I fell out of love with my greatest love: ambition.
After becoming tantalisingly close to securing a dream job I had set a strict timer for ten years ago, I realised I did not want it. Saving for a mortgage, a well-paid 9 to 5 and a consistent income suddenly became suffocating, not liberating. Ambition, which had evolved into a defining element of my persona, no longer directed me to new heights. It had shifted towards an abyss of burnt-out desperation.
