An Open Apology To Everyone Who Isn’t Me

I would just like to take the time to say I am so sorry to the world, because I can’t talk about anything but the future. I have become so focused on who I will be that the person sitting here typing this in Christmas patterned pajama shorts is not me. The person in the Christmas pants wants to go to Yale for graduate school and feels pressured to pick three or four activities to be good at and get a 4.0 because that is how you get into things. But she doesn’t know whether to fence or be a member of a philanthropic sorority or a Young Democrat or a student government leader or run artsy events or be a waitress.

This is why I haven’t posted in weeks. I have hit a wall. I don’t know what I’m doing. Every day when I’m driving I almost get into an accident with someone or run a stop sign because I am so distracted by the impending future. Fear of the unknown.

I remember to not care about these things right now only when I’m inside a small moment, watching a sunset on a beach or eating lunch with my little sister, but even then I only shut up for a moment and then become consumed with image, consumed with how to be better and how to make the most of the four years that start in one week. I have never been more addicted to technology than I have this summer. Yeah, I might go outside and do things and lead an overall healthy life but I constantly need a stimulant, something to distract me from the intense pressure I feel all the time. And that distraction has been completely changing my lifestyle and personality. I don’t know why I’m doing that. I don’t know why senior year me isn’t good enough for what’s ahead.

I’m supposed to be coming into my own, figuring out who I really am. But if I really like planners and sticky notes this much, then I am scared. I used to hate bright colors and drink tea all the time, and last month I bought bright pink shorts and I take pride in the mornings that allow a quick drive to Ashlawn Farm for coffee. I’m also afraid that all of this change is going to make my friends dislike me. And I kind of really need them right now.

All of this is making me realize that I can’t shut myself off. I wonder how can adults go on vacations and not care about anything except wine tastings and beach reads for two weeks and I can’t even simply work and lay in sand without freaking out every second for less than that. I know I should not be consumed with anxiety because I am going to be fine but I still am, because I like to torture myself for no reason. I need to get a dog or something.

But I know that I need to somehow get this out of me, because at my therapy appointment today I started crying because I forgot what it was like to vocalize¬†my feelings honestly and deeply. I started telling her about how I was supposed to go to school in California yet that dream was crushed by my parents for no apparent reason, but I was so good with adapting to the restriction that I forgot how upset it made me. It really pissed me off because their acceptance rate was in the 40s compared to the 73.4 that the University of Vermont has. And all I want is to prove to people (and, of course, myself) that I’m smart. So maybe I’ll put on all my job applications that, sorry, I was supposed to go to a pretty good school but then my parents forced me not to and now I feel stuck and gross and scared. I feel like a complete asshole because in some weird way I feel my university is “below me,” but nothing is below me. Everything is some sort of opportunity¬†and I should be grateful, and excited about it.

But I guess I’ll just go back to being okay with it, because there is no use in caring about it now. I’m lucky enough to afford a state school, and lucky enough to even go to college. But Ms. Gallagher told me I would “blossom” in college so I better fucking blossom or else I want my money back.

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