Graduation Bell Blues

My graduation is exactly two months away. I am exactly eight weeks from receiving a Masters Degree in Applied Psychology from New York University at Yankees Stadium. I have ordered commencement ceremony tickets, a cap and gown, and even a grad sweatshirt. I had been over the moon since the moment I applied for graduation.

But lately, things have been out of focus. I can’t see a happy picture perfect moment on May 16th. I don’t feel a sense of excitement at starting my life. I’m starting to question whether I should be proud of any of this.

I jumped into grad school a year after graduating from undergrad. I gave up my hopes for a writing career after just one year, and then I dropped the ball and went to NYU. I gave up. It wasn’t working, and I had this amazing opportunity at an amazing school that I never thought I could possibly get into. I should be happier. I should be excited.

But I’m not.

With a job around the corner and the next couple years already set for me, I’m starting to question whether I really wanted this, or if I just ran away to a sure thing. Is this going to make me happy, or am I playing it safe because I’m too much of a bitch to take a risk?

What would have happened if I had really stuck it out? If I had just taken a real chance and worked for it?

The fact of the matter is, I have never had real confidence in my writing abilities. I have always felt that the people around me praised my writing because they cared about me. They built me up because it was my passion, and they wanted to support me. I wasn’t really talented. I was mediocre at best. I wasn’t good enough to be a writer.

Maybe I would have never made it, and I would have been nothing, in the end. Maybe I would have been wasting my time trying. Maybe I would have become a complete failure for the rest of my life.

But now, I’ll never know. Now, I’m going to be something I never really wanted to be. Now, I take a job I don’t like, get married to someone I can’t love, have children I can’t be honest with, and grow old knowing that I have spent my entire life working on nothing.

Now, I’m the loser who chose to settle, and there’s no coming back from that.

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