Speaking Out Loud
So I guess this whole blogging thing means you actually have to sit down and open yourself up to a world of curious people despite your fear of being vulnerable. Who knew?
I actually had a previous blog my junior and senior year of high school. I was going through a lot, or at least as much as a seventeen year old teenager can go through, and writing was what kept me sane. And as time went on, I devoted less of my time to writing and more of it to college applications and what felt like losing my mind. Recently, I was advised in order to chase my dreams of having somewhat of a creative writing future, whether it be publishing, editing, or being an author, that I needed to revive my blog. So here I am.
I’m eighteen years old and I have no idea what I’m doing. I grew up with a plan since I can remember. And as I got older, reality started setting in, so all my unreachable goals were simply revised in order to keep moving forward. I worked hard in school, gained rewarding relationships with my high school staff and made friends I know I’ll have when I’m sixty and kicking it back in a rocking chair. I had been through some tough times but I wasn’t completely beaten yet. I was on my way to my dream school and nothing seemed like a greater fresh start than college.
Four words: I was so wrong.
College is hard. It forces you to be present with everything you’ve run from in your past. It holds you accountable for every skipped class and little white lie you told to get out of some form of responsibility. Everything seems to be falling apart right around the time midterms knock on your doorstep and before you know it, it’s 2 AM and you can’t sleep because all you can think about is that person who won’t answer your calls or that research project that’s due in 36 hours that you haven’t started. You have breakdowns every Wednesday night with no knowledge of why you’re crying and the only edible food you can afford are Poptarts and ramen.
I want to believe that this is where I belong and that I truly am not the only one who feels misplaced and insane. I want to believe that freshmen forgiveness means more than a forgotten failed class and that there’s more for me than Netflix and feeling stuck. I want to believe that in order to break routine you don’t have to completely alter your life and I want to believe that I’m more than another lost college student with no plan and no money.
So as I sit here with Gilmore Girls playing in the background and the sound of the rain outside my window, I wonder whether this is all worth it. The late night runs to 7/11 and the midnight cravings. The Ubers that drain my bank account and legit FOMO. The professor that lectures the same exact lecture every class at eight in the morning and the bags under my eyes that never seem to go away. The next door neighbors who I feel are more like family than friends.
So is it worth it? Who knows? I’m just another eighteen year old college student who has too much to say yet rarely speaks.