There’s this recurring theme in my life: I’m just a passenger, staring out the window of whatever bus, car, train I happen to be in as someone else drives. I’m at their will. They’re future is mine. I’ve been too afraid to take matters into my own hands because of my fear of failure. I look head on as the car zips toward its destination, only to smash into an oncoming vehicle. I’m propelled through the windshield and am suspended in the air, slowly twisting as the glass pebbles fly around me. I have enough time to count them all until I collide with the other vehicle. I kindly smile at the other driver and utter my last words, “I guess I’m your passenger…