Thoughts About My Future aka Why Is Everything So Hard

I’ll turn 19 soon, so my future has been a constant topic in the back of my mind for close to 2 years now. I’ve come to a point where when today somebody asked me what I like to do in my free time I said I didn’t know. When he asked me what kind of job I’d like to do in the future, if I’d want to work in an office or something practical or if I wanted to help people or see the product of what I’ve been working on, I said that I didn’t know. I said that I’ve never met a single person with a job that I’d like to do, or a life I’d like to live.

Maybe I should’ve worked more on getting to know my present self instead of imagining what my future self will be like.

When I was home over the holidays I asked my brother what he saw me doing 10, 15 years from now. He said he didn’t know, and neither do I. He said it wasn’t like I had no talents, but that my talents weren’t useful in any job he could imagine.

I don’t even fucking know what my talents are. I know I’m creative, or at least that’s what my parents have been telling me for all my life. I know I’m incredibly content when I can create things, pretty things, nice sounding things. I know that I’m a good actor, and I know that I could be a wonderful author if I just sat down on my ass and worked for once. I know that I could be brilliant at drawing, but I also know that I would never have the passion to become good enough for people to pay me.

I know I love the English language, and I’m good at reading and writing in it, and with a little practice I could become a near-perfect fluid talker as well. I mean, maybe I talk really well already and don’t give myself enough credit, but I wouldn’t count on it.

But I also know this. Being creative doesn’t count for shit in this world as long as you’re not fucking brilliant, have the flexibility to live of nothing but ramen and retail jobs for years and are lucky enough for something you do to fit into an editor’s idea of what they want, the current trends and so on and so on and so on. I’m neither willing to live the life of an actor nor do I have the experience tons of people in my age do have. People tell me I have a great voice, but guess what you need for a chance at becoming a voice actor? That’s right: Experience as an actor.

I know I’m not willing to sit down, write day in and day out and wait for somebody to discover me. So no matter how serious I’d take my career as an author, I need a plan B. Something that brings money and that I wouldn’t hate doing for the rest of my life.

And that’s where it starts all over again.

Also, still, what the fuck am I going to do about my writing? I just enjoy writing in English so much more than in German at the moment that I don’t have a clue how I’ll be able to sell my work one day. Because no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be better than a good writer who’s a native English speaker. I’ve known this for so long and decided every time that well, it means I’ll have to write in German again after all, but I just keep and keep and keep and keep coming back to English.

My aunt has a few ideas for things I could do some day, and she’s awesome and I trust her. She says I have the ability to empathise with people but still not make something about me, or let it get too close to me and that I could become some kind of doctor. But I couldn’t care less about medicine, and it couldn’t be more difficult for me to get a place to major in it. She also says maybe I could do interior design, but it does have a lot of math and also a freaking difficult job market and I’m not even interested in interior design that much.

Also, why the fuck is there always a ‘but’? I fucking hate that and I don’t even know if nothing is perfect and I should just deal with it or if I’m just searching for faults by now because I expect them and I’m terrified of these kind of decisions.

I’m thinking about doing English Studies plus Theatre Sciences or whatever I should call it in English. The ‘but’ in there is that only doing theoretical working with theatre could hurt me more than not having to do anything with it at all work-wise. Also, I would really love to work with books still.

But I guess it’s the best bet at the moment. We’ll see what I decide to do about this shitty mess.
Kerstin

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