Personal confession- I feel pathetic. Like I’m grasping at straws that don’t exist. Like I’m your stereotypical dramatic teenager. Pathetic. I feel pathetic.
Everyday is constantly ridden with anxiety. What do I want to do with my life? Where am I going? What will I do to change the world?
Obviously, I’ll need money to even function. After reviewing recent financial aid packages, debt is inevitable. Payments are inevitable. Maybe if I work two jobs in college I won’t feel the effects of interest too badly. Can I get into the Honors College in the Spring? What will I have to do for that to be accomplished?
On top of that, what do I want to major in? What career do I want? Is it possible for me to find something that I love to and make money while doing so? I’ve debated translation and interpretation, but I’m not fluent yet.
I‘m working on it, sure, but it will take years of laughs and stares. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know. I just don’t know. I should know. Everyone tells me that I have time, but I don’t have the cash to wander aimlessly through college.
I’d love to do English or Philosophy or Journalism, but you know what isn’t hiring? Any of those.
What if I never get married? What if I’m alone forever? I mean, I know that the average age of marriage is now 27, but still. (If I’m unmarried by thirty, I’ve sworn marriage-for-tax-benefits to my friend.)
Do I really want to go to my top college which is nearly seven hours away? That’s an awkward mixture of wanting to spread my wings while not knowing how to fly with a heavy twinge of anxiety.
I love the area. I do. I remember being eleven and going to the mountains and telling my mom, “I know that I live here, but I’m homesick for somewhere that I’ve only been once,”
I know the mountains are where I’m meant to be. But the people that I’m meant to love are here.
Everything that I’ve worked so hard for is here. What if I go off to college, it doesn’t work out, come back here, and there’s no one that cares about me anymore?
I mean, I already know that I’ll most likely grow apart from most people ( 😦 ). It’s going to happen if I stay in the area or not. If I stay, what would be keeping me? If I go, what would be pushing me, or shall I say, what is pulling me, away?
Where will my life be in six months from now? Or a year? Two years? Five years? Ten years? Fifty? How long do I have to live?
And if I were to die next week, would I have any regrets? Did I make a big enough impact? Did I change the world, or, a little part of it?
Being eighteen is hard. It’s exciting. With terror comes exhilaration. Like an overdose of adrenaline, my life skips each day closer to deadlines that I don’t know if I want to make.
I thought it was hard to be fourteen. Then fifteen. I complained a whole lot at sixteen (sophomore/junior year who will I marry/what am I doing with my life woes). Now, at 18, I’m an adult. I’m supposed to know.
If anyone has figured out their life or a little part of it and wants to offer up some advice, chill, I’ll take it.
What do I do with my life?
Because right now, I feel pathetic.