Growing up I was always the smartest in the class. I’m not saying this to brag about my intelligence or anything, but it’s true. I always raised my hand for nearly every question and got the best grades. For the majority of my life, I had all the answers and then somehow I just didn’t.
We take for granted the simplicity of our childhood and the questions that defined it. What’s the capital of New York? Should I play on the monkey bars or the swings at recess? How many cups in a pint and how many pints in a gallon? As we grow up the questions get more complicated, not just in school but in life as well. What do I want to be? Does he love me? Am I happy? Am I a good person?
Some people may look at these four questions and answer them in four simple words. Doctor, yes, yes, yes. And maybe these people are right. Maybe they really do have all the answers. Or maybe they’re just confident at guessing. These are the questions that plague my daily thoughts because, for the first time in my entire life, I don’t have any of the answers. Is this normal? I can’t be the only one who feels this way. But at the same time a part of me, the part that got straight A’s and never went into a test without studying, is absolutely terrified.