God, I hate that word. Future.
How can such a simple word that used to be filled with endless excitement and unimaginable opportunities be so daunting now. I guess that's the beauty of growing up, everything starts to lose a little magic as each year goes by. (gag) look at me! I'm speaking as if I'm a tired 50-year-old who has persevered through everything life has thrown at me and lived to tell the tale. When in reality, it is quite the opposite. I'm 19-years-young and has just sauntered home after a very delicious dim sum lunch and flipped open her laptop to find multiple tabs and windows left open from when I was intently researching career prospects and crazily trying to plan and organise the next 5-7 years of my life one late night.
It's crazy. I'm crazy. If there's one thing I've learnt on my short time on this planet, it's that things rarely carry out as we planned. I can sit here all day trying to decide which degree would give me a better chance at being admitted into a doctorate programme and reviewing all the volunteering and work experience I'll need to undergo after in order to make the cut...but, what good does it do if in a couple months or years from now, I'm sitting in a lecture hall and it hits me that maybe I don't want this path anymore. Maybe, I'm not interested in a PhD, or practicing clinical psychology, or I want to veer into a different field. What happen's then?