I hate writing now because I’m scared of

I hate writing now because I’m scared of bad writing. I’m scared of a lot of other things too. Getting lost, being lost, new places, pain, rejection, judgment, toxic shock syndrome.

High school ended. I already miss my classes, my teachers, my classmates. We’ll never be in the same environment again. We’re never going to have the same interactions, but I guess that holds true for any time in life.

I’m scared that I’ll forget people and I’ll forget the jokes and I’ll forget even the sour parts. I feel like the memories are fleeting already and I’m already growing distant. My heart is torn because I know have to move on and continue living life and striving to achieve new goals and to make new connections. I’m torn because I feel obligated to be goal-oriented, but all I want to do is reminisce and talk to my friends and relive the comfortable days of high school.

I’m absolutely going to miss the feeling of going into school every day and knowing everyone and feeling like I have a place in the world. Reestablishing yourself is so scary and I fear for my future. Where will I go? What will I do? I’m so lost now. I’ve made it to a place where opportunities are abundant and I can go anywhere I want. All the doors are open and I want to go through every single one. I’m waiting for that lightbulb moment when I’ll know what my passions are because currently my passions are everything. I like science and English and history and foreign language and music. I want to be a professor, an astronaut, a journalist, an author, a doctor, an engineer. I want to travel the world and write. I want to join the peace corps. I want to be a software developer.

It would be so easy though to follow a track and sometimes I’m tempted to just decide so that I can focus and excel. I’ll be a doctor. I’ll be a financial engineer. I would work hard and be successful and make money and be happy.

I want to explore everything to find what really makes me tick, but there’s not a guarantee that I’ll find something and maybe my wistful thinking will lead to a waste of time and money and effort and dampened spirits.

Rejection hurts and I wonder if I’ll ever grow immune. Will I ever get strong enough to withstand depression and discouragement? Is there a point when I’ll really be able to embrace the idea that life goes on and that I can harness other opportunities as a result of rejection? Will my wisdom be able to convince my emotions that I don’t have to feel this way? Inner peace comes in time, but I want this process to hasten.

That’s my life right now. I have a lot of questions, anxiety, and fear. I feel lost. I’m annoyed by my lack of direction, eager to find something to do or learn, and coming to terms with ambiguity in my life.


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