So lately I've been thinking a lot, and generally when I do that I freak out, and generally when I freak out I blog... hence this post. I completely envy people who know exactly what they want to do in life. I seriously go over everything in my head, and there's really nothing that fascinates me so much that I'd like to make a career out of it. And sure, I could settle for something that I'm decent at, but I'm not going to spend my life working at some place doing something that I'm only mildly interested in when I could be doing anything I want. And maybe that's the problem. When I have too many options I don't know what to do with myself. Even for instance, when I'm writing a paper. If a teacher says "write about whatever you want" I draw a blank. I can't do this. There are so many endless possibilities, I can't even fathom to think of all of them, let alone narrow that list down to one topic that will end up being my paper. And maybe the issue lies with the fact that I dread thinking about things. How instead of facing stuff, I flee. I don't like confrontation, I don't like facing reality, I would rather leave a problem unsolved and never have to think about it again, than go through the whole ordeal of fixing everything. I've quit almost everything I've ever done, and if my past has any indication of what lies ahead, my future is screwed. And the most frustrating part is all of this is my fault, all of this could have been avoided. Everything is not okay, but the good thing is I can pretend like it is. And maybe that's what life is. Everyone pretending like they're happy, like they don't care, like they do care, like they believe you, like they believe IN you. How is anyone supposed to believe in me when I can't believe in myself? I don't feel like I'm worthy of being believed in. I don't feel like I'm even worthy of being liked.