My chosen profession really is an impossible dream?
Everything that matters to me really is a waste of time?
College really is the be-all to end-all?
High school really is the “golden years”?
The Oxford Comma really is a necessity?
If I listen to the people who supposedly know best, then I should take out the question marks and make all those worries into clear-cut statements of fact: Writing actually won’t get me anywhere; I’d be better off spending my time doing homework, preparing for college, doing activities that look good on a résumé and turning myself into the perfect walking transcript; I’m destined for mundanity, complete with a deep collegiate debt and a low-paying, unintellectual job to show for it; and, life will never be glorious, merely a long popularity contest won by those who can’t spell anything over four letters.
Hmph. Horse manure. Not every person tries to tell me this, simply an overwhelming majority. I live on. I’ll keep going as I am. However, I will have to do a better job of it.
