Dreams Vs. Reality

I sit at my desk, looking out at the, ahem, carpark.  I am a self-made man.  I have fought both physically and mentally every person who has stood in my way.  I have migrated social class, a feat that only 2% of people ever do*. 

Now I have a problem.  Everybody in this social class thinks I got here the same way they did, by following Daddy's advice, and eating Mummy's packed lunches.  They make their genuine recommendations to get a good stable job in the public service, or work on my cv by spending two years in a good Insurance company.  The problem is that that seems nice.  

I did not work this hard to break through economic and cultural battles to stop here.  I need to take this to the next level.  I am scared.  I am terrified.  I am completely on my own in this.  I have nobody to ask for advice.  I keep throwing up in private.  I am getting nothing done.  

Sorry for talking about work, again, guys.  I am going to Nice with P for a romantic weekend if that is more of interest.

* Okay, I have almost been in a fight on two occasions in the last two weeks, but...