I always knew that I wanted to be a writer when I grew older. I loved writing so much that I would go home after school and sit down at my parents’ computer to write short stories about my day. I always enrolled in writing contests throughout my academic career, I loved my Spanish literature class, and I was always seen with my face buried in a book. I was most likely reading a Nicholas Sparks novel or the Harry Potter books, but that still counts, right? I was also utterly obsessed with magazines, buying every issue of my favorite publications monthly. I kid you not, I have over 2,000 issues in my room back at home.
I was so involved with the written word that I thought I was going to make a career out of it. I was going to be a famous writer, like J.K Rowling, and I was going to write for magazines in my free time. I debated if I wanted to be a writer for a magazine like Seventeen or InStyle, but I knew I wanted to be a published author in some kind of magazine. I was so invested in this dream that I couldn’t see that I had other passions besides that one. Everything I did in high school – all those essays I wrote, all those articles I submitted, all the debates I participated in and all the Model of United Nations meetings I went to – were meant to help get me closer to my dream job and my dream school.
My dream school was not only in another country, but another continent and another time zone. I was going to be far from my friends and family, but the idea of living by myself in a completely different country really appealed to me. I was blinded by my love for a few prominent aspects of that school, from its proximity to the beach to its amazing faculty, that I didn’t pay attention to the fact that they barely offered any writing courses. After visiting during the summer before senior year of high school, I realized that even if I loved the campus, my chances of pursuing my dream of being a writer there were limited. I felt like a part of me died, a dream that I had had for so long vanished within 30 minutes of visiting their main campus. I knew I needed to find a new college to study at and after a lot of research and countless pros and cons lists, I decided to go to Drexel University.
I won’t lie; coming to Drexel University put me very far outside of my comfort zone. Among other things, it was hard to move to a place where winter is a thing, especially since I am used to wearing flip flops year-round at home and my former dream school was located in a tropical climate as well. It was also hard to change my major and realize that some of the classes I already took wouldn’t count towards graduation. Even worse, I don’t yet know where I will be living in a couple of months. But you know what? I am OK with not knowing everything that the future holds (even if I’m not too fond of surprises!).
Learning that it is OK to be unsure of what the future holds has been one of the best realizations I have ever made. Yes, I still think about the what ifs that could have been if I had made different choices, but that doesn’t mean I am not happy where I am now. All of these unexpected turns have taught me that wherever I end up is the right place for me. I can choose to make the best out of any situation or I can worry about the future without living in the present.