I’ve officially reached the point in college where I can no longer be whatever I want to be when I grow up. I’ve committed, and it would be a waste of time and money to change it up now. I like my major. I really do. But I’m thinking about all the things I could have been that I probably won’t be now. Every day, a little voice in my head says something stupid, and every morning, I have to talk my head out of being crazy.
“But what if I wanted to be a doctor?” No, Stephanie. You don’t want to be a doctor. You’re squeamish, remember?
“But what if I wanted to be a spelunker?” No, Stephanie. You don’t want to be a spelunker. You’re claustrophobic and you only like it because the name sounds like the noise a rock makes when it hits water.
“But what if I wanted to train wolves?” Dammit, Stephanie. That doesn’t even make sense.