I'm slowly discovering who I am as a person, and, maybe more importantly, as a writer. And it's very confusing. I've always imagined my life going a certain (read: Southern) way—good at high school, successful in college, move to New York, get nice apartment, have great friends, get job in magazines, get married, have kids. All but two of the things on my lifelong to-do list can be checked off... and I'm only 23. Now what?
Yes, I realize the list isn't profound or broken down in any way, but... I'm struggling. I'm struggling with what I want and how I want to be fulfilled. What I want to spend my time on and what I don't. Sometimes in my social life or in my work life, I feel like things are going perfectly. Others, I wonder why I'm wasting my time. I'm only 23, and I'm poor as fuck, so shouldn't I at least be creating or exploring or energizing myself? I know I can't do these things all the time, and that there will be ups and downs, but, creatively speaking, am I not spending enough time on myself? Developing into who I want to be? Figuring it out?
I feel stuck lately. Things have been so great for so long, but my mind is starting to wander to things I have no experience, no time, no ability to do. Who the hell am I? Is this path that I'm on where I'm supposed to be going? Does it matter?
I don't know, obviously. And that's all I do know. I have ideas of going back to Mississippi to gather information and characters and history. Maybe I'm destined to be a great Southern writer? And I have ideas of traveling to Europe and getting into trouble. Maybe I'm destined to be a great random stories or travel writer? Or a memoirist? Or maybe I'm supposed to capture New York?
I'm rambling, but I'm allowed to do that. Basically I'm confused because I'm stuck. I've, sadly, accomplished many of my life goals, and I'm too young to say that. Or maybe I don't have enough goals. Or maybe I'm just confused with what life is supposed to be as an adult. Whatever it is, I'm not happy with it, and I want to know the answer.
Sigh. I am human after all. Now how does that work?
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