1. You grew up with pressure to secure a ~*~practical~*~ job. You were told starring on Broadway did not count as such.
2. You hate it when people ask you what you want to do. Your gut reaction is that you’ll be judged for not responding doctor/lawyer/banker/CIA agent in space. So you do the classic shoulder shrug and mumbling “I don’t know” combo.
3. The response to this is always “Oh, don’t worry! You have plenty of time!”
4. You’re painfully aware you don’t actually have “plenty of time.”
5. You internally fight between following the “conventional route” and what you secretly really, really, really, really, really, really, really want to do. Unfortunately this involves considering how little money you could potentially end up making by pursuing the latter.
6. Once you convince yourself to focus on finances and reality, and you suppress your artistic urges, you feel dead inside. Is this really what the rest of your life is supposed to be?
7. But you’re told that your creative side is just a hobby to pursue during your free time. So you attempt to listen to that and convince yourself of it.
8. You worry about living a life filled with regrets.
9. Because the thing is, you want to create. You want to channel all your confusion over your future life choices into something amazing that will prove, once and for all, that you were right all along. That creativity means something. You can contribute to society without selling your soul and happiness to a job you’ve been told you should want.
10. As you grew up, you developed thick skin. You face a lot of rejection—from both close family and friends—and so you’re used to garnering up some fake confidence to help you carry on.
11. You constantly fear becoming a “starving artist.” Mostly because it would prove your doubters right.
12. With a creative mind comes great uncertainty. You’re never positive about the obstacles you’re going to face. You sometimes enjoy the ambiguity of the lifestyle, but most of the time it’s really tough.
13. Somedays ~*~it~*~ hits you ferociously, and you’re writing away furiously, completely in the zone without the help of Adderall or coffee. You’re on top of the world. Suck it, 5th grade teacher who told you you were a source of concern because you couldn’t do long division— you’re writing and killing it.
14. Other days, you’re staring blankly at that Word document wondering how you could ever think you could do this. Your parents were right. Your friend who got a summer internship at Goldman Sachs was right. That one teacher who gave you a B+ on a paper about The Scarlet Letter knew it all along. Ugh.
15. But whether it’s good days or bad (and, at times it feels like it’s mostly bad), you’re emotionally entangled and heavily invested in every product you create. You cannot detach yourself from the process and it drains you in the best way possible. You wouldn’t exchange your creativity for anything else in the world.