The Future. I’m a terrible worrier.

So, I’m writing this after returning from a family meal. It was meant to be a late lunch but conversation ran over and as usual, we arrived home late. I was drained. For a 17 year old, socializing can be so terribly difficult. It’s knowing what to say, when to smile and when to laugh. I cannot bare it! The worst question of all, the most dreaded question for me is the; “so what do you plan to do?” now, for someone that is prone to worry like mad, this question speeds round my mind like a bee locked in a room. I panicked and stumbled upon the first thing I could say; “I plan to write”. Now everyone knows there is nothing worse than a wannabe writer, nothing worse than someone who does not have a plan B. But what if I don’t want one? All my life I have been told to follow dreams and do what I want, but when faced with six middle aged women and a bottle of wine; I stumble, why? Because the fear of being judged, just as many people my age feel. We need to get a job in something we hate, strive for something we do not want and then BAM! Before you know it, you’re 55 and married to a slightly overweight man, you once thought was good looking.

I don’t want to be unhappy, chasing something in a job I do not feel strongly about. I understand many of my goals are big, but someone out there has to write. Someone in this world has to write books and keep people entertained (even if these people are old and racing towards death) I do not care. I will not conform and work in Waitrose for the rest of my life, (no offence Waitrose is a lovely store) It’s just not me. I am a writer, born and bred.


Now please stop with the questions, I’m doing fine.


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