I'm in pretty bad shape these days. No, don't worry, I'm not suicidal or even cutting myself or starving myself. I am, however, self-destructive in the sense that I am completely unmotivated to actively job-hunt for next year. I have no idea what I want to do (when I go and talk to people that other people set me up with I say I have an idea, but that's pretty much a lie, I don't), so I have no short term goals or long term dreams. My biggest fear is calling people to thank them after I've spoken with them. My next biggest fear is getting in touch with people they recommend I speak to. Nowhere on the fear list is "starving" or "being homeless," because I know those won't happen, and I enjoy wallowing enough that living a very, very mediocre life has gained some appeal in that it will defy everyone's expectations. People who are expected to fail sometimes find that drive to succeed. I'm expected to succeed, and I have something of a drive to fail.
Doing something I'll truly hate has also gained some appeal. I see no chance that I would enjoy teach for america at all, but perhaps really working, slaving, and seeing people with actual problems will make me happier. I'm always happier when I'm around people with actual problems. Sick? Perhaps, but time and again it has been proven true.
So am I worried about next year? Oddly enough, no. I'm worried about now and me in general. I'm worried that I'm not worried about next year. I'm worried that I have no interests and a desire to fail. I really want to leave college, I don't like this place at all, but do I really want to jump into a void? What would that even consist of? Sitting at home for a while, I suppose, until I find a mediocre job in NYC. It's the obvious choice, right now. Why deny the obvious choice?
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