My name's Steven, and I'm 29 years old. If you'd asked me 10 years ago what my future looked like

My name's Steven, and I'm 29 years old. If you'd asked me 10 years ago what my future looked like, I probably would've laughed and said something stupid, like hopefully not living in my parents' basement. I didn't have some grand vision back then. I wasn't one of those kids coding apps in middle school or building robots in the garage. I was just quiet, observant. I like taking things apart, seeing how they worked, tinkering alone. My older brother, Evan, was the golden child. He always had the spotlight class president, football team captain, prom king, and later the one with the real job. He majored in finance, wore suits even to casual family dinners, and somehow always had a story ready that made everyone laugh. My parents, especially my mom, treated him like the second coming of Steve Jobs.