“Where I came from” is the sky, the ground, the sea, the very air we breathe
Sometimes you can cure a migraine with two Excedrin tablets and a large bowl of ramen to which you have added two eggs and two slices of the alchemy we like to call American cheese.
What probably cured the migraine was the 12 uninterrupted hours of sleep you allowed yourself but the thing that got you there was the permission to get home from work and take the tablets and make the ramen and then go straight to bed without getting dragged back into email.
Life is a series of decisions, big and small, intentional and unconscious, elaborately planned or sudden and spontaneous, made by you or for you by people you love and perfect strangers. Someone is always deciding.
It is strange and remarkable to realize how many of us treat life as something that happens to us, something over which we have no control, when we are the same people making consequential decisions at companies that collectively affect the lives and well-being (or deaths and suffering, really) of hundreds of millions. Hell might be other people, but we are the willing torturers.