I have a lot of fears.
It was easier when I thought I knew what I wanted to do "when I grew up." It seemed so simple and perfect to move to New York and pursue a career in editing. I had my plans boxed up in this neat little package with perfect edges and a secure latch.
But then it all blew to hell.
Those crisp edges started disintegrating; the latch kept flopping open and my neat little future leaked onto the floor in a muddled mess of confusion.
A friend of mine once said he was impressed with how pulled together I was. He'd be so disappointed if he could see the way I'm falling apart now.
The biggest challenge, I think, is figuring out what I'm most afraid of.
Is it being away from everyone and everything that I know and love?
Is it having a job that bores me and that I only tolerate in hopes of rising in the ranks over the years to finally arrive at interesting job 5 years from now?
Is it a cubicle? A 9-5? White walls and file folders? Business casual? Casual Friday? The word "office"?
Is it that I'll make the wrong decision? About the job? About my location? About my relationships?
Is it that I'll be a disappointment?
Is it failure?
Here's the secret, dearest diary. Here's the scandalous tidbit that would get me laughed at and mocked.
I just want to be happy.
And nothing else really matters.