Preview Your Life

i'm incapable of thinking about the future

when i first started college, i committed to it with an extremely vague idea of what my future would be. that’s probably how everyone remembers feeling at 18, a retarded little ball rolling around on a glass table, but i truly didn’t know what i wanted to do.

i chose chemistry, because back then i still cared about things like Money, and it was the only stemshit that remotely interested me. all of my former teachers said i should go into writing, because i was the only decent writer at my 400 student shit-hick highschool, but i just brushed it off.

i thought it was… fine. you go to your lectures which are fine and then you go to lab and get paired up with some asian guy that browses the Guilty Gear Strive patch notes on his phone, or some jolly giant black guy football player that is only useful at handing you things, or some mud-bogger country boy that plays clash royale on his phone the entire time and fucks up the numbers you’re supposed to take down so you end up making some shit up.

but as i kept doing it, i couldn’t shake the feeling that i didn’t understand the Point of all this. normies answer this question by pointing to things like money or comfort or status, none of which stand out to me. they will acknowledge the concept of “fulfillment,” but i don’t know if they actually know what it means, or maybe their definition is a lot more lenient, which is probably for the best.

i turned to one of my closest friends for answers. she is an analytical chemist doing things like mass spectrometry, something i could not make myself care about no matter how many times she autistically discussed it.

we are very similar in personality, almost too much, and she is 4 years my senior. so when she graduated and started working in her field, adjacent to mine, i thought it would reveal something to me, that fuzzy little box finally becoming clear.

right now she’s making 100k a year and living in a nice neighborhood in XXXXXXXX, YY. she is an ostensibly vibrant girl, quite competent at what she does, data analysis or something. she has a mostly good relationship with her coworkers, and will probably make millions by the time this is all said and done. her life is the absolute best case scenario for the path i’ve been going down. even she has admitted that i probably won’t be as fortunate as her, something i’ve known since the beginning

but whenever she talks to me about it, i can’t stop thinking about how miserable it all sounds. that whole upper-middle class techfag culture comes off as fake and repulsive to me. part of me knows that you’re just supposed to roll with it, because that’s what everyone does who is an Adult and Responsible and not retarded and Don’t you want to make any money in this lifetime what the fuck are you talking about.

but i cant. i cant fake it and pretend i want to live that life or any life like it. just thinking about it gives me an awful headache. if i’m forced to do something then i want it to be something that i care about. something that feels Real.

i do not know if writing is that thing, or if i’ll ever be good at it, or if anyone will ever read any of this, but it’s the only thing i can somewhat grasp right now, and i don’t want to let go.

and either way, i’m not signing up for any classes this coming semester, so i’m almost forcing myself to go through with this. but i’ve found that’s the only way i can motivate myself to do something. and if that’s what it takes, then i don’t really have a choice.