Looking back at your life, specifically your freshman year in high school, you have to remember the silly things you did, people you liked, and things you enjoyed or didn't enjoy that have since changed. For me, specifically, I remember panic attacks nearly every day, liking a boy with Aspergers, and trying to be a biochemist. Specifically, I wanted to be a forensic epidemiologist.

Anyone who shares this interest knows it can be hard work, and while I was good at biology– specifically animals and genetics– it was not where my heart was. While my family had never outright said I had to go into a STEM major, I felt like that was what I needed to do because... well, they're called "starving artists" for a reason. I felt like if I pursued my true interests and my desires, then I could never survive.

I also recall, in my freshman Advanced Literature class, I hated writing research papers and documents. My only interest in writing was the novel that I wouldn't finish until years later and other short fictional stories. It's funny how people change over as little as three years.

Now I'm writing for Odyssey and possibly KSU's student newsletter and art magazine. I hated anything that was non-fiction, now I'm double majoring in Journalism and Studio Art. So, why am I choosing a less than stellar income when I am more than smart enough and skilled enough in science, technology, engineering, and math?

Because I'm choosing my life over wealth.

I wasn't happy, and I didn't see any point in living an unhappy life. For a while, I didn't want to interact with those around me or even live. I ironically buried myself in my art and tried my hardest to communicate in a way that no one would understand unless I explained it to them.

I wish it was harder to say this, but really it's not: choosing to be happy doesn't mean choosing wealth, despite what so many would have you believe. Choosing to pursue your talents and your passions is a decision not everyone is lucky enough to be able to make. I am lucky enough to be blessed with parents who support my decisions and believe I have a good head on my shoulders. All I'm saying is, that life sucks. It's hard to make adult decisions when you're an inexperienced eighteen-year-old who doesn't know anything other than what they've been told: art doesn't pay the bills.

If you've been told these same things, if you've got a bleak outlook on the world, if you're surrounded by people who don't support your passions or anything else like that, I'm here to tell you that it's okay to break free from the ritualistic repetition of the cruel world we live in and pursue who you are. You'll make one of the best decisions of your life, whether you're eighteen or eighty-four, and you'll be better for it. Even if you're an artist fueled by ramen and cheap coffee, in my mind, you'll be far happier than any paper-pusher in a cubicle, and therefore, better off in the long run.