I keep relying on the hope that one day I’ll just wake up and I’ll know what I’m supposed to do. But let’s be real, is that really going to happen? Am I going to be so lucky that I could live my entire life blindly up until the point where suddenly I am hit with the realization of my purpose? No. Yet I continue to live this way. I ask myself “Why do I do this?” and my only answer is “I don’t know what else to do.” Then my thoughts wander to the unsettling corner in my mind where I question why I do not know anything; why am I so indecisive, so wishy-washy? Is it because I grew up with virtually no self-esteem? That would explain why I have no ambition or drive to do anything amazing because in my mind, I don’t think I could make it. Or is it because I was housed with two unforgettably sad parents for eighteen years, who let the world get in the way of their life? They didn’t accomplish what they wanted and so I was given no insight on what product could come out of hard work. There are many possibilities as to why I am this way; however the point remains, it is my own fault. Somewhere down the line, I did not gain what I needed to gain in order to be a productive, ambitious young woman. Sometimes I have these visions of how uneventful my life will be. These visions consist of: a relationship that I have been in too long, that simply does not work, a job I get no satisfaction from, a life lived in a single fucking town, no travelling, no adventure, no fulfillment. And that scares me more than anything in this fucking world.