Wander
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When I was in elementary school, I wanted to grow up. Because growing up meant sitting in the front seat. In junior high, it meant learning how to drive. But there’s no third section to that wish. (Unless… maybe learning how to fly a plane?) Now, I’m deathly afraid of getting older.
I used to wish there was a step-by-step guide on how to get through life—just like the answer key to my math homework. If a calculator for my life existed, then my life would be great. Say goodbye to friendship drama, gut-wrenching heartache, and unsolvable dilemmas.
Now, I think a “How to Live a Good Life” wikiHow would just ruin the point of living. The greatest moments don’t necessarily reside in the mapped-out future; they reveal themselves in the most unanticipated situations.
Even though I know this, I still don’t want to grow up: graduate, leave home, “find myself.” For the first time in twelve years, life won’t be defined by school. My friends won’t live near me. And my future could never be more uncertain.
But what else can I do except wander? There’s no solution to living.
