Just because I don’t know what I wanna do doesn’t mean I don’t know what I wanna do

Because there is more to life than just figuring out what you’re gonna do to make money. There’s more than a job, more than careers. I don’t know what I want to do come April, graduation, ergo life. I don’t fucking know. And I don’t care anymore. Some people have this shit figured out. Some people have their dreams and they go after them. I don’t have dreams. Imagine? I don’t have dreams. Know that, “where do you see yourself in 10 years” question—I don’t have an answer to it. I never did, not five years ago and not tonight. I wanna do something big. I want to break out of this fishbowl. I want to get out of Mississauga. Canada. All of it. God, so badly, I want to get away from here.  I will. You can hold me to that. I want to get so far away that I can give myself an entirely new identity and there will not be anyone around to say otherwise. This isn’t a weird emo dream, I’m not wanting to disappear and blah blah blah. But I want to go. Just go. Go to an airport, buy a ticket for the next flight out. India. Japan. New Zealand. Where ever that plane is landing, I want to go. There has to be more to this world. There has to be more than work and school and home. I get it. At the end of the day it is about love, and about family. But what about during the day when there are so many other things going on? When there are parties and beaches and new friends and crappy friends and life changing lessons? I want to be there for those things. I’m watching my life pass me by. I’ll be fourty before I know it. I’ll be wishing I was twenty two again the next time I exhale. I need to do something. I don’t know what it is. But I need to. It’s in my bones. It’s killing me. It’s everything I’m thinking about when I’m silent, when I’m sleeping, when I’m on a bus living the mundane. I need to… break free. Just temporarily. Let me go. Let me find what I can. Let me see something outside of this world. I feel like Jack (in Emma Donoghue’s Room) where the entire outside is a mystery, something so entirely outside my comprehension, something so beyond my imagination because I have never touched its grounds, smelled its air. I can’t be Jack.  I can’t be Jack. I can’t do jack.