In the road of life, highschool graduation represents a break in the somewhat linear trail of choices you’ve made thus far. A lot of people know what path they want to take next, or at least know the direction they generally want to go. Not me. I got placed on this trail without a map or compass, made to find my way through the jagged and cold woods of the world without a semblance of where I’m headed. I’m directionless, and no matter how much I ask the people around me what it is that I’m meant to do, all I’m met with is vague jargon; the same few answers and questions over and over again that make the choice before me all the more maddening. 

“What are you interested in?” is one of those questions. It’s a deceivingly easy question to answer, but it only leads to more questions. I’m interested in a lot of things, but I don’t necessarily want to do them everyday for 40 or more years. I love cooking, but the thought of being a professional chef is nowhere near appealing to me. Video games are really cool, but do I have what it takes to learn how to painstakingly build one from the ground up? I love nature and animals, but can I put up with the instability and large cost of being a park ranger? Are the things I’m passionate about enough to keep me afloat in life, or will I be like countless others; pursuing a dream that leads nowhere. In today’s world, where I would be lucky to even find a house to live in, I find myself scared to take a risk with nothing but the cloudy promise of a dream to support me.

Being directionless, you get met with one answer more than any. An insurmountable chorus that, while well intentioned, I can’t help but question the validity of. “You don’t have to know right now.” Really? Don’t I? When highschool presents you with options that you are locked out of if you don’t take them soon enough? When funding through a lot of scholarships is largely based on activities that you have to dedicate your life, time, and money to for four years. It seems like in order for a lot of people to succeed in their lives, especially if you weren’t born into a fortunate family, that you should have a good idea of what you’re doing before you start high school. 

So what is there to do? Keep drifting aimlessly, hoping you’ll fall into something? Pick something vague and stay on that path, hoping you’ll like it and that it’ll work out? Hope is the one recurring theme that just keeps popping up. I really don’t think that people should have to dedicate their lives this early on to a wish that may not come true, especially when our brains aren’t fully developed. Colleges take into consideration everything students do in high school, but is that fair? People are still young and inexperienced. We make mistakes. A lot of students really don’t grasp the importance of all their actions in school until it’s too late.

But we’re here. The end is coming to highschool anyway, regrets or not. We’re here, and whatever choices you did or didn’t make, well they happened and it’s time to move on. Maybe I’m not ready for the world, but then again, are most people really? Yeah there are people who have things planned out, but the vast majority of people are just like me. We’re scared. Millions of people have forged on in just the very same way that we now have to. 

Maybe it is impractical to have hope, but what’s the alternative? We have to push on regardless, and I think that as long as we have hope, as long as we keep trying and keep making mistakes, we’ll turn out okay in the end. Life sometimes has a funny way of working out, and although I don’t know what it is I want out of life right now, maybe it’s something that comes from trial and error. What I do know is that everyone, including me, has potential. One day, I will find my path through the woods. I might not navigate them as fast or as easily as others, but with enough time and hope I can find the clearing on the other side, and maybe while I’m wandering blindly along the trails, I’ll stop, smell the roses and appreciate where I’ve gotten, and I’ll find something truly special.