Why is there such an emphasis placed on figuring out what you want to do with your life? None of us can tell the future. We don’t know what opportunities will present themselves. We don’t know how things will change. What is the use in trying to focus on planning a future? If you could tell the future, you would know what you would do with your life. You would be a psychic.
I really hate this time of the semester. I can’t wait to be done with all my work, but I don’t want to leave school. I want to stay here in my room with my roommate. She already moved out, and we aren’t living together next year. I don’t want to live with anyone else. It even feels strange sleeping in an empty room. Everything is so quiet all the time, I need some more excitement in my life. That doesn’t happen when I’m alone this much.
I had an awful conference with my professor today. I had printer issues and then I couldn’t find his office because I wrote down that it was on the wrong floor, so I got there late. Then I had to sit there and discuss my grade with him, in front of a bunch of other people who were waiting. He looked at my eight page paper that I stayed up until 5 A.M. working on, and have been working on for two weeks, for about three minutes. Then he said it was flat and it was a B. Then he told me that my class participation only merited a C-. I got him to change it to a B-. I don’t do C’s. That honestly terrified me when he said C-. I have to keep a 3.0 or I lose my scholarship. I’m not the kind of student who gets a C-. Or the kind of student who loses their scholarship. I know I won’t this semester, or I really doubt I will, but it stresses me out how little structure there is when it comes to deciding grades. If I lost my scholarship I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself. My parents told me not worry about it, they have a little money saved up that my dad inherited from my grandmother. But still, I would probably have to take out more loans. Losing my scholarship is honestly my biggest fear at the moment. I feel like it’s the only validation I have that I’ve done something right.
I saw something on Tumblr that said, “I wish we were together.”
I wish we were together.
It made me think about how rarely I have someone I wish I was together, in that sense, a romantic sense, a sexual sense, with. Oftentimes I wish I had someone, but I rarely have a specific person in mind. I guess that’s because whenever I have some kind of flirtation with someone, I usually realize I don’t like them pretty quickly. Why is that? Why does that always happen to me? I’m nineteen years old. I’ve kissed two people. Ever. I do not know either of their names. I was drunk both times. I thought about this a lot. My friends judge me for this, I think. My friends from home. Probably a few of my friends at school would, but I don’t really get into it with them. My friends from home, they have either gone from relationship to relationship, or, like me, their romantic history is somewhat of an blank page. But they still don’t understand what I’m doing, completely. I just think that if I don’t have anyone who I even have a crush on, why not enjoy myself when I go out to parties? Why not get some experience? It’s possible that it could be a few more years before I have a real relationship. I hate to think that, but it is so possible. Why would I want to be a 25 year old who has never kissed anyone? The thought of that stresses me out. It also stresses me out that me, and my one other best friend are the last of my friends from high school to lose are virginities. It’s weird. I feel ready to have sex. I feel ready to meet someone. I used to cringe at the idea of being responsible for someone, of having to inform them of all the details of your life and work with them and be with them. But that doesn’t seem so bad anymore. I guess that’s because I’m really alone now. I don’t have my high school friends with me for every move I make.
All of this scares me. The unknown scares me. The fact that I am always alone scares me. My roommate has basically moved out with a week left in the semester. I have other friends. I could easily call them. But I feel like a nuisance. I don’t feel comfortable calling them up, even though I should. I don’t know. I guess I’m just ready to go home.
Sorry. I don’t think this is very lucid. I just need to write my thoughts down, I think.
I write all the time in school. It’s just meaningless words. I don’t spend time with my essays. I just do them. The only time I feel a real sense of purpose is when I print out what I have written, take a blue, bic pen, and edit so much that there is barely an white space left on the page. I love it when I have an idea of where to go next and my mind has so many ideas that my pen can’t get them down fast enough. It’s terrifying because I might lose some of my ideas in transition, but exhilarating because I’m creating so much so quickly. That never happens with essays. That only happens when I have my own idea. I miss when I had a place to do all this, and a reason to do it regularly. I need to get back to that. It’s just so hard to restart from the beginning. I love hard work but I’m not patient.
I don’t think my parents will understand what I mean when I try to use that to explain to them why I’m so confused about what to major in. I think the best thing is to just pick a major and write as much as I can in my free time. I don’t feel motivated enough to make a living my writing, but I am terrified to make a living by doing anything besides writing. I like the idea of being a writer because that in itself provides you with an identity. I don’t know why I like that so much, but I do.