I feel like college is draining my life force. By the looks of it, I’m on my way to a 5 year program to obtain both a bachelors and a masters degree in accounting. Accounting. When I was younger, I wanted to be an artist. My father would always laugh at the proclaimation like the silly little dream it was. I have no desire to be an artist now, ever since I discovered just because I could draw a bit better than classmates, it didn’t mean I was actually any good. It’s strange to think about it now; how much I used to draw. How much I loved it. Now all my creations are gathering dust in some binder I stuffed them in many years ago back home. Younger wannabe artist me would never have envisioned somewhat older me being an accountant. I almost want to laugh at the seeming hilarity of it.
The thought of crunching numbers for more years of my life than I want to count makes me want to…stop living. It’s extreme, I know. But I can’t help it. Why don’t I just pick something I like then? Wow, that thought never once crossed my mind. My brother came to visit me a couple weeks back. And as usual, any time any of my siblings are alone with me, there’s the never ending speech about college life and majors and careers. Join clubs, make lifelong friends, choose a major you like but one that’s practical and will make a lot of money, and get a boyfriend while you’re at it too. Easy, simple stuff really. My brother asked me if I was even liking college and I gave a somewhat noncommittal answer verging on “I fucking hate college” without actually saying it. He asked why I was even here if I wasn’t enjoying it. My brother, the college graduate, the engineer asked me why I was at college. I almost laughed in his face. He made it seem like, with this economy, with these two people I call my parents, with the loans I’ve already racked up, that I actually had a choice in that matter. Like I could even have the choice of dropping out or taking a year off.
My sister came to visit me this weekend. As usual, the college talk began. I have heard this talk so many times, I’m practically boiling every time my siblings or parents finish it. I’m at my limit. I know they care, but it’s too much. Anyone who isn’t from my country or a culture with similar values would never understand my culture. As the youngest, I essentially have no say in anything. I’m expected to bow to everyone older than me, expected to respect anyone older than me without expecting the same. It’s infuriating. Excruciating. I can’t speak my mind. They wouldn’t understand. I know I’m more “Americanized” than the rest of my family, more cognizant, and that is why it is so difficult for me to withstand this much longer.
I just really, really, really really do not want to be here right now. College, life, whatever. Somewhere deep in me, I attribute this feeling to something much darker, one that I don’t really want to think about. I tell myself to snap out of it. Pick myself up. Stop the pity party. If only it were that easy. Then I wonder if I’m just that lazy. I literally just want to do nothing for the rest of my life. Is it possible to be so lazy you’d want to stop existing?