College was not what I expected. I expected a world of opportunities to open up. I expected to make friends on the first day; that is not what happened. I choose to live at home, seeing how my school was thirty minutes down the highway. I don’t regret this decision and next year I will remain to live at home. I have come to realize how hard it is to find your place on a big campus. It is hard to know who you want to be when everyone expects you to know already.

I have changed my major twice and it has only been my first semester. I want to be an author, but I know I need a job until something happens for me. So I have tried to find a degree with a job attached to it. So I thought of teaching. I figured I could have free time to write as I please but it turns out that that is not the case. Teachers are under paid and have a very demanding job. I shadowed a first grade teacher one morning before I drove to school and I saw some gross things and some heartbreaking things. After seeing children pick their noses and other gross things, I meet a beautiful little girl who broke my heart. I knew if I were a teacher that I would encounter heartbreaking stories all the time. So then I thought about what it would be like to be a teacher. First, I would have to enjoy children, which I do not. Second, I would have to be willing to give up my free time to be a teacher, which I am not willing to do. So I am back to square one, what am I going to do? Where is my niche in life?

Another thing about college that just tears me up is registering for classes. Freshmen are last to pick, which really means no classes are left. I have not applied to any classes yet because I am not allowed to yet, but all the classes I needed and wanted, are closed. Just when I thought college could get better, it hit even lower. I don’t want to give up, but I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life other than write.

College isn’t bringing me down, but I heard that it was supposed to help your mind grow. For me, it is making me become closed minded in a way and that isn’t okay. I loved learning and I loved Elementary school through High school, but this is a mess. If I could find where I belong and what I belong doing, I think I could be a happier person and maybe even enjoy college.

So then I thought, why can’t I just write? Is that really such a disgraceful thing for me to do? I want to be an author and if I focus on other things, will that not be the most important thing to me anymore? All I want is for someone to pick up my book and read it with a smile. I don’t care if I am the next “J.K Rowling” or if my book would be a movie, I care if someone comes into my world for a while and lives my story out in their minds. Books make my heart feel happy and I want someone to fall in love with reading whenever they read my stories. That is all I want and I hope I get there someday.

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