When I was seven, I wanted to be an astronomer. When I was twelve, I wanted to be a chemist. When I was fourteen, I wanted to be a writer. When I was sixteen, I wanted to be a doctor.
I have changed my mind about my life path more times than I change my outfit in the morning. I dye my hair every handful of months because I still can’t quite decide what I want to look like. But for some reason, since the ripe age of seven, I decided I was going to major in chemistry when I went to college. No matter the dreams I fantasized about, no matter the career path I was debating on, no matter the college I was applying to, I was destined to be a chemistry major.
This month, I declared myself an english major. I wouldn’t have even thought about this if it weren’t for my incredible roommate who went her whole life wanting to be a doctor and has recently declared herself a history major. Even now, months after knowing what I was going to declare, and weeks after officially doing so, I find myself doubting my decision, questioning if I’m really good enough at the humanities, if I should fall back on my “safety net” of the sciences and the box that I’ve always put myself in.
It’s OK to not know who you are. It’s OK to wake up and want to reinvent yourself. It’s OK to finally admit you’re not the box everyone has put you in for your whole life. It’s OK to say, “I was wrong.” Up until eighteen months ago, I was legally not allowed to make decisions for myself. Now, I’m being forced to decide what I’m going to do with my life for the next fifty or more years. So I have decided to do what makes me happy. I am an English major with a chemistry minor and all of my pre-med requirements. I have tricked the system so that I’ve locked in on basically nothing. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with the rest of my life because that is the rest of my life. I want to see the world. I want to help people. I want to make a footprint. I want to share my love for literature and everything that it has taught me, but also be the girl that can help my parents understand the ailments that our family continues to be diagnosed with. I am not the sheet of paper I will receive in two years. I am the music I dance to while I get ready, I am the political debates I have with my roommate, I am the Ted Talks I binge watch when I’m sad, I am every chemistry lab I’ve finished early and every “horrible” book from the 18th century that I’ve secretly loved.
I am three-dimensional. I may have changed my mind, but that doesn’t change who I am.
