What am I even doing here?

by - 13:27

So this is it, this is my new hobby. Blogging. My god I'm a hipster. I really don't know where I'm going with this post but I'll let it lead the way. I've been trying to write this for a while but I have come to the conclusion that I write like an excited puppy -- before I'm finished telling you about one thing, I've thought of something else I want to talk about and oh look I got a notification. 


What's my place?
I often sit alone and ponder why I was put on this earth. Not in an existential crisis-y way or anything but I do it. I'm a strong believer in purpose. I believe that everyone is here to do something. I don't care who put us here, but I do care what for. There are people who know exactly where their lives are going, and I envy them terribly. Some folk are born to travel or to heal or to put the little plastic aglets on the ends of your shoelaces. At least they know what they're doing. I suppose it's triggered by my hate of spontaneity. I like to know what I'm doing and where I'm going at all times. Everyone tells me that I'm still young and I will figure it out as I go along but I don't want to. I'm almost 17 years old and have picked my A levels with no idea what sort of job I want or even what sort of degree I want to get. 
I have a friend who wants to be a lawyer. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she will be an excellent lawyer and I'll be counting on her for getting me out of any trouble in the future. She was born to be a lawyer. She even knows what college she wants to go to. I am eternally jealous of her certainty.
I've come up with a theory as to why I can't figure out what my future holds. It's a little morbid to brace yourself. Maybe I don't have one. I can't picture myself being an adult and maybe that's because I'm never going to be one. Not in a Peter Pan sort of way either. A boy I used to go to school with died in a car accident a week or so ago and it was tragic and he didn't deserve it but I can't help but wonder if he felt the same way. Had he made plans? Did he have a dream job, a dream girl? Did he want children?
I like the idea of knowing when we will die. Not so that we can try to avoid it or change it, but so that we can prepare. If I knew I had 3 years left, I could drop out of school and spend time with friends and family, travel the world, do whatever. That doesn't mean I'd be reckless and get myself in crazy situations because I knew I wasn't going to die. Wow, this would make an incredible story, I could call it In Time. -.-

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