I've been pushing off writing a bunch of Whitworth professors for weeks, knowing that I'd fall apart as soon as I did. And I did. I got through two cards, one of them to Marc, and totally lost it. This sort of thing is hard for me because somewhere in my subconscious, writing a goodbye makes for a much more solid closure than just saying it.
I'm terrified. I want so much to have good things to say to everyone in the fall. I want to go to the fall musical and the Christmas concerts feeling like I have something to show for myself, and I'm afraid I won't. At the end of the day, I feel paralyzed by my fear. Fear of failure, of self-sabotage, of mediocrity. At Whitworth, things are safe. I feel loved and capable and supported. Being removed from that, it's hard to reassure myself that these things are all still true, despite the fact that I don't hear it and see it on a day-to-day basis. Life is much less predictable, and I have to make everything happen on my own.

But maybe I'm freaking out about nothing. Maybe this summer will prove me wrong. Regardless, I just want to get the hell out of dodge. I can't breathe here, and I have too much time to think about how scary life actually is as a grown-up. Can't I just be five years old again?
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