I'm lost and I know it.

Lately, I've been feeling scared. With the passing of my first year in college, I've been noticing this irksome friend called Independence calling me more often. What will I do? Jesus Christ. What will I do for a living? How will I make money? Where will I live?

I should be completing several papers right now, along with studying for finals later today (it's 2:16 am right now). I've had three and a half days to prepare for this week of finals, yet I've done nothing. I'm completely out of it. I'm not focusing on school; instead, I'm thinking of nothing. Absolute, total nothing. What do I spend my days doing? Surfing the internet. Really, that's all I do. Hell, I don't even read as much as I would like, even though I really enjoy reading. What kind of life am I leading? I feel so aimless. I know I'm wasting huge chucks of my time; time that should be invested in making me a better person. I'm scared that I won't get back on track. Thinking of the future makes me fearful. Life is so complicated.

I think my biggest fear is that my life philosophy--enjoying life and not being concerned with money--is actually wrong. Maybe it's because I'm fortunate and live with my parents. I've never really known need or want. I've never been starving, mentally or physically. Sometimes I feel loneliness, anxiety, or stress. But aside from these things, I have very little to complain about.

I'm becoming so disenchanted learning about the world. I suppose many people like me feel this way. But what's the point, you know? The world is full of dangerous things that you can't change; it seems that bigger, deadly things that don't respond to love or humility dominate the world. I'm scared of these things. You can't live off gratitude or free-spirited love. Everything I value right now seems so pointless and removed from the life I see outside my house. A house is a place of safety and comfort, yet you can't live in it forever. I'm lost and I know it.

I think I'm dragging my feet so I don't get pushed out of the safety of the plane and free fall thousands of feet to my potential doom. I don't want out of the plane. Actually, I do. I want to jump but I'm too scared. That's a little pathetic. The ride, I know, will be fun. I know I have to eventually jump out. People who don't jump out remain stagnant shells. I don't want that. I want what everyone else wants: safety, pleasure, happiness, love, etc. The irony is that I should be afraid of not jumping and living a sad life. But when I see the world from this dizzying place, my throat clenches shut and I feel terrible.

Scared of what? What is my fear that paralyzes my growth into adulthood. What is my biggest demon? Is it loneliness? Am I afraid of not find happiness in a relationship? That I won't have a family--kids, dogs, cats, a wife, parents-in-law, etc.?

Am I afraid of finding myself insignificant? Is my self-esteem so fragile as to dissolve in view of the corrupt world? Where is my resolution to keep my chin up? Even if my chin is made of diamond, what's the point of keeping it up? I'll keep getting hit again and again. Then I'll have to hold it up only to get hit a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, etc. time? Then what? I die at the age of eight-one? With what? I scarred jaw? What's the point? Everything is a lot easier said than done. My chin is made of tissue paper.

I'm lost because I question the point of living. No, I will not end my precious life; I'm too smart for that. Neither will I convert to a religion. I've already struggled with my beliefs and have made peace for the time being. I don't believe in any particular religion. I believe there is always good in the bad and vice-versa. I've learned the universe is not black and white, or even shades of gray, but a full spectrum of colors--many of which I cannot even perceive. There is a lot I don't know, and the little bit I've learned I meekly comprehend. So what's the point of living?

Many people live on this small world, and there are many answers to this question; a question we've always struggled to answer; a question we can never definitively answer. A question many sophomoric, arrogant teenagers sit around their houses and superficially ponder and answer, and consequently, feel certified to answer on their myspaces and facebooks with statements like "music is my life. life is joy and love. sixteen years young. you don't know the shit i've been through. i've gone through so much and grown. i'm so over it." They then add lyrics to some song that's popular at the time to the effect of "we loved each so hard we could have died in each others arms that night. Our love is endless; our lives are now complete" if they are in teenage love; if not, then the lyrics would be something like: "we kissed and hugged and never wanted to stop. But now it's over and our love is never ever gonna come back. I loved you, but you didn't love me." And unfortunately for me, I'm one of these dumbass teenagers who sit around and romanticize life. We're young and don't know any better, I guess. We have too much energy. We haven't begun digging trenches or cleaning toilets yet. We still think love conquers all, when in reality it doesn't; it only mitigates the pain enough to suffer another day. That should be enough though, right?

What am I saying? I've completely lost my focus. I feel like I've lost the power to be happy. I don't feel in control of anything--except for this. I don't remember half of what I've written here, but I'll post it anyways.