If you asked anyone in my high school graduating class, I'm almost positive that there would be a unanimous agreement that I had my life under control. I was going to become a professional musician and everyone else be damned.

I spent nearly ten years of my life in restless anticipation of graduation. Often feeling misunderstood and unable to articulate the frustration inextricable from my daily life, I found comfort in the only extracurricular I had ever excelled at - music. The clarinet diagnosed me more efficiently and more profoundly than any relative, and provided me more safety and more consistency than any friend. As I sit here writing this article, newly nineteen and worlds away from the little girl fooling around with a glorified piece of plastic in fourth grade, I marvel at my commitment. I promised myself that I would study music, regardless of how many people reacted with amused skepticism or asked what my "day job" would be. Material goods were of no interest to me; I knew that I would be remiss to structure my life in pursuit of things. I wanted to feel something - to wake up every day knowing that I had lived in accordance with my values. I wanted to live a life of truth.

Music school was a beacon of hope as I navigated high school with trepidation. Finally, I would exist in an environment where my colleagues would understand something fundamental about me; even the most superficial, passing interactions would be charged with meaning and mutual respect that could not compare to anything I had known in high school. The school I identified in particular held a degree of sentimental value untouched by any college I had visited.

It took me approximately three weeks of college life to discover that the utopia I had lovingly crafted (the product of years of STEM-class daydreams) was completely independent of music school. I was unprepared for the rude awakenings that awaited me on campus and the heart-wrenching reality of being separated from my mom, with whom I forged a particularly close relationship during my high school years. For nearly ten years, I stuck to the same narrative. I was going to go to this one specific school to study in one specific program with the objective of obtaining one specific job. Of course it was going to happen. How could it not? While everyone else was busy playing sports and going to house parties with their friends I was at home, sifting through my feelings in a journal I bought when I was 12 and planning each detail of my perfect adulthood. It was fool-proof. Absolutely brilliant. Today, I think back on my obsessive need to know everything - even the future - and wonder how much better off I would've been if I had just taken a damn break.

Making the call to my parents to break the news that I wanted to leave was a tremendous blow to my ego. I finished the semester feeling defeated, and wound up taking an unforeseen semester off (a story for a different day). Just when I thought things could not get any worse - I had officially taken back my job as a cashier - tragedy struck my personal life. The shame, confusion, and anger I felt - all inflicted at myself, by myself - dissolved. I saw clearly, for the first time since my initial discovery that music school was not the answer to the deep unrest I felt, that none of that negativity really mattered. It was not "too late." My (laughable) misdirection was not irreversible, and any power it had was there because I put it there. To use my mom's favorite expression, I learned an expensive lesson very cheaply. Acknowledging that I didn't want to study music anymore was immensely difficult, but I knew that I had to return to my initial quest to live a life of truth (sounds dramatic, bear with me). If music isn't what I want for myself, then I'm not going to do it. I don't owe that to anyone. End of story.

So what's the point of me sharing all of this? I think there are a few lessons to be had here.

1. Be flexible. Trust your interests and follow them wherever they may lead you, especially if it's intimidating.

2. Be honest in your intentions. Really think about what you want, and then go do it! I was so busy making a statement all the time that I was going to be a musician that my own desires took the back seat.

3. It's okay to not have everything figured out. Nobody does. And if you think you do, you're probably wrong. Sorry.

4. Remember that you still have time. So, so much time. There is no pressure. Take life one day at a time.

5. Remember that this is your life. Only you will live with the consequences of whatever you decide to pursue in college. You will have to wake up every day and spend a big chunk of your day doing whatever it is you decide to do. Make it something worthwhile, but most importantly make it something you love.