I did what I was supposed to do. Go to college straight out of high school. Get a degree. Get a job. And I believe I am less fulfilled now than I have been in years. It is a scary feeling.
Follow the instructions. Word-for-word. The ones they hand you in grade school and make you memorize. Build your life the way you've always been told (diploma + degree + career). Fasten it together with all the right words and a nice portfolio. And things are supposed to happen, yeah? You're supposed to be happy because you're successful--or, at the very least, on your way there--right?
So. What do you do when the pieces you've oh-so-carefully fit together start to loosen and then crumble? What do you do when you realize you've lost the motivation to pick them back up and refashion what's falling apart? Because it doesn't make you happy. And this isn't success to you.
What do you do when you wear your heart on your sleeve and you've got three months left in this mess to try and keep it pinned there.
I might have accomplished more than a lot of my friends. Maybe I did everything by the book. But I don't want it. It's nothing like I expected. I asked for it, though. I wanted to grow up so badly. I wanted to move away from the city because I was, "over it." I can't count how many times I said those exact words. I wanted a nice, big place. A career. A new life.
I got it. All I want now is to give it back and start over.
It's probably just the school.
You really want to quit after your first year?
Next year will be easier.
And what if it's not. What if I feel like this all over again.
Completely lost. Nearly paralyzed. Trapped like a rat.
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