I’ve been muddling my way through, trying to figure out just what exactly I’ll be doing for my next step, and it’s weird because…I’ll be sitting there, trying to convince myself I want to do the “responsible” thing, and get the steady paycheck and find the nice apartment or whatever, and then someone from the next table over will just be really loud and I’ll hear “FOLLOW THE LOVE. Follow the love. Everything else will come after that.”
I know that.
Not doing that is what gets me in trouble, every time.
But the things that I love aren’t the things that I’ve been taught to view as good investments.
(I think that love, in every form, is rarely seen as a good investment in most of the scenarios that I’m familiar with.
I really want to leave that behind.)
I don’t know why I’m still trying to convince myself that I don’t want to chase after the things that make me happy.
I’m sitting in my room, looking out at the claustrophobic corner of the city that I’ve been clinging to for the past month, and I don’t know why I’m so driven to consider it as an option.
What I’m doing is hardly making me happy.
When I was at uni, I would see all of these people, and they hated their classes, and they hated their work, and they somehow thought that maybe at the end of it, the job they’d get that would depend on those skills and experiences would somehow be different; would somehow be something they’d enjoy.
I didn’t see the logic then, and I don’t see it now. (Even though maybe I’d like to.)
I still haven’t *decided* anything yet, but…I know which option is choosing out of fear, and which one is choosing out of love.
Maybe I have.