If I had not decided on that fateful night in November 8 years ago to go for a walk, and in the course of the walk decide to go into a room, and once in that room to sit on a certain bed, then I would not be lying in this bed right now writing this. I would not have the Elfling and the Monkey and it's entirely likely that I wouldn't be married to anyone.
If I had actually done any study and therefore received high distinctions in my original Maths major for my science degree it's entirely likely that I would have continued on with my ambition to be a pure mathematician majoring in number theory instead of hating calculus and mathlab and refusing to deign either with a look. I have certificates from international competitions in Mathematics, but I threw it all away on ego and laziness.
If I had not had a certain English teacher in Year 11 and 12 who brought my perfect A+ rating for highschool English down to a B+/A- (grudgingly) then I may have continued on believing that I could write and made something of it, instead of the sense that I was deluding myself for those years.
If I had swallowed a few more pills when I was 16 I wouldn't be writing this at all. Same same if I'd been game enough to cut deeper.
If I was not so desparately afraid of failure (sensing a theme here? lol) then I don't think my weight would bother me so much.