Fed Up

After getting back from my trip, I was making my bed and, as I knelt on it, I felt there was something under the blanket. I flipped it up and was horrified. There it was-a white notepad scribbled with things I needed to do. A to-do list in my bed. It's when I realized this has gone too far-I need out. I need out of this whirlwind of stress and deadlines, of time management and to-do lists. At some point, we imagine that we'll put down the books at the end of the day and switch on the TV. or maybe even eat and sleep. But not for me- it's constant. So constant that I’m organizing my assignments with half my face pressed against the pillow.

 Aside from my final projects, portfolios, papers, and exams, my focus has been on changing my major…again. It has taken me nearly three years to come this realization:

 Maybe I’m not the person I was last year or the year before. Maybe I’m no longer the girl who wants to wear a fitted suit and hold some “important” job. Maybe I’m not able to push myself all the way all the time. Maybe I don’t know all the answers, or sometimes any. Maybe this “important major” is of no major importance. Maybe I don’t enjoy all the Literature I have to read-maybe I hate it. Maybe I can fall behind and not be the best in the class. Maybe my faith struggles, and maybe—just maybe—I’m only human. So, maybe I’m restless. Maybe I can’t always make decisions quickly enough. Maybe I make some too quickly. Maybe I waste a lot of money and time. Maybe I’m miserable with the major I chose to declare, and maybe I just figured that out. Maybe I wasn’t as open minded as I thought.

Maybe I want to take art classes instead, and write poetry, and wear what I like, and toy with film production, and write, and create, and never stop learning. And maybe that will be important. Maybe I can defy the box I created for myself at far too young an age. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s my answer-my way out.

Maybe I’ll say to Hell with that box. Maybe I just did.