too many thoughts, too little time.


Build a portfolio. PA on multiple sets. Get a 4.0. Build meaningful relationships. Make three short films for festivals that I am proud of.  Finish transfer applications. Volunteer for other passions. Find a quirky hobby. Be the top 3%. Work out. Travel abroad. Apply for internships. Apply for scholarships. Apply for fellowships.


That is the only way to describe what I am feeling. On the day that I am writing this, it is the first day of my sophomore year in college. Weird. Scary.

Ever since my first day of school ever, the night before I would never be able to sleep. I would keep myself up thinking about the endless amount of “what-ifs” because by 2AM, 19 years later, everything has been a”what-if.”


This year is different though because I feel old, and too old for this. But as an expert worrier, I guess my mind will never feel too old for it.

Mostly, I feel there’s more. This year will mean more. Although, I am convinced every year is like that. More, more, more. I just want to do more. I need to accomplish more. I have to be more.

Once school comes along, all my creative juices get channeled into academic juices and I end up never having time for creative things anymore. Yet this is the year that I have to get it together with my creativity if I want to transfer, and it may be my last shot to get out of this school that I just don’t feel like I belong in. And if I cannot get out, then what?

I am also taking two classes that are notoriously not my strong suit and I want to be challenged but I am afraid to be challenged at this school because what does this say about what I can handle at a harder institution? I love a challenge, but I am afraid of it and I hate that the numbers of a GPA still define how I see myself in a way.


And then I also feel so alone because there are all these thoughts eating away at me, but there’s never a saying or a thing or person that can make it better other than myself. I keep thinking maybe when I am older, I’ll have it figured out but the older I get, the more hectic and confusing everything seems.

I feel like I have packed my schedule to keep busy, and with opportunities that I know will only help me in the future, but then I keep wishing I had more time to think, more time to myself.

I am afraid that I will never be totally content with where I am and what I am doing because these past few years have been so focused in a future that I have not learned to appreciate what is happening now. And who’s to say the future will be any better? But I guess that’s part of growing up, and something you can never really know.

PS: I am so sorry this is a bit negative but hopefully my thoughts will be a little #relatable.

PPS: Since this post is super introspective, I thought I would make these photos in black & white. Partially that, but more importantly, the fact that none of these really go together in terms of color scheme makes desaturating all of them much easier. I’m lame. I know.


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