I remember the day when, for the first time, I was able to verbalize that I was lost, that I didn't know what to do with my life, that perhaps I had failed. I was in Hong Kong with my boyfriend, about to finish a nearly four-month trip through Asia. We were on a long trip, and I felt like I had all the time in the world, the feeling that makes you feel comfortable starting on unfinished business. So I began to reflect out loud, constantly walking, putting one foot after the other: right, left, right, left. "Maybe I should have studied something else." Right, left, right, left. "I just wasn't brave enough." Right, left, right, left. "I did everything wrong." Right, left, right, left. From higher and higher, from my chest getting tighter and tighter. I remember the rhythm of my breathing, the constant rhythm, the traffic jam that made all the intrusive thoughts move very quickly. I hyperventilated and couldn't stop the torrent of words.