Planning

I vividly remember laying in bed, and thinking, planning is the more accurate word, my life out, the night after I graduated high school. It wasn’t a plan I had just thought about that night, no it was one that I had thought about all junior and senior year. I thought about it every second until I left my parents house that summer to go to school.

I was set on what I was going to do- major in journalism, become a reporter, get married, have a family, live happily ever after. That was my plan and at 18, I knew that’s what I was going to do. Then, I went off to school, hated journalism. I hate it. I spent way to much time partying, and not near enough time hitting the books, and figuring out Part B of the plan, since Part A clearly wasn’t working.

I refused to give up on Part A.

I refused to seek other avenues, admit there were other options for me, even attempt to look at them, because I had been so set on journalism and that course since I was 18. And I started dating a boy, let him distract me even more. Because I was head over hills for him. And I let all/any of the first part of my plan, slip through my fingers, because I refused to acknowledge that there was a way to amend my perfect little plan.