I kept being told, “Go to school. Get a good paying job. It’ll be rewarding in itself. One day…”

Now that I’m a fifth year college student, standing over this ledge looking down into the real world, I realize it’s just that. I’m on top of my own world, and it is a 1000 foot drop down to an abyss of nothingness that frightens me down to the core of my entire being.

Every year here, I studied hard, got decent grades, had a lot of fun, learned a lot of valuable life lessons the hard way, became a better person, and now the party is over. The real world starts in a few short months, and I have no idea where I’m going to be in the next year. Applying for jobs is a nightmare. I don’t even get an email back at some of the bigger jobs that I want to work for, ones that would set me up for life even if I just got my foot in the door as one of their lower-end employees.

Every job requires for you to be a mid-40’s individual with 20-some years of experience. I’m 23, have maybe a year’s worth in a related field, and begging to get a shot to impress someone in an interview because I know that whatever job is put in front of me, I will learn quickly and complete everything efficiently and to a satisfactory standard.

Do I even really need to mention that my best friends are all leaving me? One by one, I no longer hear their voice, see their face, or feel a buzz in my pocket that leads to going out for drinks or getting lunch together in order to break up a long day of class and work. I miss each and every person I came in contact with within the last few years that have gone away to find themselves starting their careers. I’m more jealous than anything. They found their niche, but I can’t seem to find mine.

My lack of a desire to continue working at a part-time job that requires me to work 8 hour shifts after a long day of classes is at an astounding all-time high. I feel stuck when I show up, clock in, and stand at attention for those hours, assisting others that more or less treat young workers like me as a two-year-old treats a room: unwilling to realize that I exist outside of that establishment after they’ve left, or other than to just serve their every need.

Obtaining and maintaining a part-time job, most of the times multiple, since I was 14, I crave more structure and routine than ever. I don’t want to have to wonder, “Am I getting scheduled enough hours to make rent this month?” I want to know that I’m going to work from 8-5 every single day in an office of people I significantly want to take an interest in as acquaintances, friends, or just coworkers because I know that I’m in a position I plan on one day celebrating my 30 year anniversary working for that company.

Never having to question that when I get home it will still be somewhat light out, and I no longer have to work until 11 p.m., after attending class from 9 a.m. until 2 p.m. is an absolute dream that seems so close but so insanely far away. I want to come home to everything I own, not everything I rent for the time being, while I live in a temporary town.

Every single weekend, I become progressively more and more frustrated by missing out on fun events because I have so many things on my plate. I’m burnt out, I’m run down, and I still have no idea what’s next for me. I’ve told everyone that I graduate in May, but I have this feeling, that in a year, I’ll be in the same position: clocking in and clocking out, going home to an apartment that isn’t filled with dogs because I can’t afford to feed them and have no time to love them like they deserve to be loved.

Yes, this sounds more like a complaint rant than a manifesto. I have always been the kind of person to just bottle up every word of unpleasantness. But the real problems aren’t those that are clearly listed in paragraphs above. If you look closely at every paragraph’s first letter in the order they show up, you’ll see my real dilemma.