Sophomore year of high school is the one time you can get away without being bothered, interrogated or stressed. Freshmen year is intimidating because you’re at the bottom of the totem pole, junior year you have SAT’s, AP exams and ACT’s to worry about, and senior year is the last hoorah before it’s time to move out to college.

Sophomore year of college, on the other hand, is a completely different ballgame.

With the naïveté of your first year of college under your belt, people make the assumption that you’ve got all the answers. Every week, I’m asked questions regarding:

1. What’s my major?

2. What do I want to do with said major?

3. Am I aware that I’m already halfway through my college career? (Usually followed by a, “Flies by, doesn’t it?” Yes, I’m fully aware that it does.)

4. Have I had any internships?

5. No? Well, when am I going to hop on that?

6. Am I dating anyone?

7. In response to the previous question -- well, why not?

8. Am I considering graduate school?

9. Where do I see myself living after college?

10. Do I have a job?

You know the gist.

Soon enough, these questions start to get to you. You start to question, Wow, what do I want to do with my major? Wait, why haven't I gotten an internship yet? When do I even consider the possibility of graduate school? And so on, and so forth.

Having crises in high school was typically minor. Oftentimes, the crises leading up to sophomore year were concerning one facet of life. Maybe you had a minor meltdown senior year when trying to determine what college to go to. Maybe you had a brief panic attack upon realizing you would need to make new friends at school. But either way, it wasn’t your whole life that presented a poorly wrapped present of complete uncertainty.

Until sophomore year.

Suddenly, a full, existential crisis is in full swing as you realize that you have no idea who you are, what you’re doing or where you’re going. Not just academically personally, financially or professionally, but in every way possible.

You think about the fact that 10 years ago, you were about 10 years old. You knew that the bus was going to come every day, you were going to continue going to school with the same group of people for the foreseeable future, and for the most part, life would stay considerably stable for a good while.

Then you fast-forward another 10 years and realize that at that point, you’re going to have an actual job, be an actually engaged human being in society, pay bills and taxes, and maybe even have a family.

But for right now, who knows. And that’s the scariest part. When I look back at myself from 10 years ago, I have no idea who that person was. When I look back 10 years from now, am I going to be equally dumbfounded at the person I am today?

We like to think we know exactly where our lives are going, what direction we’re heading and who we’re turning out to be.

But sophomore year hits us with the realization that, in the grand scheme of things, we really don’t.