in my bones

Sometimes I wonder if this is what I'm supposed to be doing. I've never learned a thing in a journalism class but I'm fine at the paper. Class is never what made me a talented writer. I wonder if I'd be better off just stopping everything and finally writing. I know this sounds cliche but this isn't helping me, it's a detriment to my writing projects. I'm spending little to no time on them due to other obligations, but isn't my writing the reason I came to school in the first place? Maybe not everyone's meant for this. Maybe I could live without a degree. It's a strange thing to feel that your life is being dictated by a desire to meet other's expectations. Maybe everyone feels like this. Maybe this is just showing me who I really am and what I'm built for. I think at this point I'm keeping up this facade of being a student to keep this life, this lifestyle, to keep other people happy. I don't think I'm happy, and I'm certainly not flourishing here. I didn't come to college to take high school-esque classes on Shakespeare's word choice.

I feel like I'm waking up from a dream.
-Loch