*insert angsty introduction*
I’m not quite sure what I’m doing in life right now. I’m questioning precisely every aspect of my life — from whether or not I’m at the right college, to whether or not I’m in the right major, to whether or not I’m being my authentic self (whatever that means). But isn’t that what every 20 something on their way to that blessed ~college degree~ that their adults told them they needed so much is doing? I mean really, how many angsty, find-yourself-in-college books or movies or stories are out there in the world? Maybe if I went to Peru and took hallucinogenic drugs I would finally be able to realize who I am. Then could I get that fancy “wanderlust” tattoo that every college-aged girl who studied abroad that one summer gets? Or should I just make it the caption to my latest insta post? “W a n d e r l u s t — a strong longing or impulse to travel”, taken directly from my cousin’s social media, posted exactly 56 weeks ago. The point is that I’m here, ambling about, grasping onto straws and poles and bottles of wine, trying to figure out where in the hell I’m going to go next. Looking past the (hopefully) witty banter, however, I’ve got to be honest and admit that I’m scared and very apprehensive of making a move to change things. And so I’ve taken to this thing, at the advice of my unempathetic, but wonderfully patient boyfriend, to vomit all of my thoughts onto a platform which other people can read because I obviously need gratification, and because apparently tumblr is too juvenille for me (and honestly, all I ever did on it was reblog porn). So here I am, vomitting onto all of you (presuming, of course, that there is a collective “you” that are reading this) so that I may hopefully come to some sort of conclusion on how to find myself.