18.
18 is the age when you apparently can decide exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life.
You choose whether to go to college. And which college. And which major.
And you spend 4 years putting yourself into incredible debt in order to be able to do whatever you decided you wanted to do with the rest of your life.
But, what if you were wrong?
There isn't a guidebook for what to do when you graduate and realize that the plan you made at 18 isn't something you want at 22.
So, you flail.
Because 18 year old you thought you wanted something that 22 year old you actually doesn't want.
And flailing is scary.
Because, when you are 18, you have teachers and guidance counselors and parents helping you to decide what you want to do, and helping you do it.
At 22, you are in the real world.
And, if you're me, you're 22, living in New York, and trying to grasp what it is that you actually want to do.
Which, for me, is terrifying. Because I don't like to be wrong. I don't like to be unsure. I don't like not knowing what is coming.
But, that's where I am.
Flailing.
And, I think it's okay to flail.
I am 22. How the hell should I know what I want to do with my life at this age? I have a hard enough time trying to decide what I want to order on Seamless, nevermind deciding what I want for the rest of my life.
It is a struggle to get my laundry done, or clean the kitchen because I'm 22 and would rather be watching Bar Rescue with a diet coke in hand.
How can I, at 22, know what I want forever?
I don't.
And, right here, right now (if you just sang that as a HSM 3 song, you win.) I am going to pledge to embrace my flailing. I am going to try new things, and explore what makes me happy.
So, here we are. I know some of you reading this are in the same boat, because pretty much everyone I've talked about this to has said the same thing, so…
Let's make a pledge to flail fearlessly.
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