A Note From Me About the Wretched F Word

 

As of late, I’ve felt the hot topic of discussion to be the ominous, taunting, stubborn faced future. I crave to be the change in the world, but how? Is there a formula or algorithm to solve worldwide turmoil? What will the analyzation of Nathaniel Hawthorne's work do to prepare me to conquer cultural injustice? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to degrade the public school system. I understand its purpose. All I am saying is that I would be lying if I denied the overwhelming pit in my stomach due to the looming fear of drowning once getting tossed into the, “real world.”

I don’t want my life to be average. I look around and observe sallow faced store clerks and wonder if they ever ask themselves, “what happened?” One might say, “I dreamed of becoming a pilot and gliding through the clouds,” but later admit that his fear of inadequacy was what kept his feet planted firmly on Earth’s soil. I fear that I won’t be enough. I fear that my niche will never be discovered. I fear that my future is determined by one size fits all test results. “Do you have any idea what you want to do after you graduate?” an unnerving phrase that permeates the air of every light hearted gathering of individuals years older than I. This simple good intentioned phrase raises bilicious anxiety in my throat and sours my face. With a shrug of my shoulders in faux causality a rehearsed giggle escapes my lips, and the standard, “don’t ask me that, I have no idea,” attempts to bookend a conversation in my sorest of subjects.  

I’m a list maker. I have a designated place for every knick and every knack. I prefer my thoughts logged and filed into prim folders. The future is a begrudging, atrociously cliche blank page that flitters around, and lacks respect for my love affair with order. I want so bad to be able to determine whether the shade of the paper will be ecru or starch white, or whether times new roman will dominate the sheet or if words will appear in maddening comic sans. It’s quite easy to tell people to, “be the change you want to see in the world,” but how does one simply tug on a hat of resilience and carve paths of worldly revisions? How do I better my environment when I cower, in fear of tomorrow? How do I ensure that I exhale my last breath of life in tranquil confidence that I, an insignificant drop of water in the sea of Earth’s existence, truly impacted?