scared, much?

so i think my problem is that i don't have a dream. i don't think that i ever really have. i mean, sure i wanted to move to nashville and become a country star, but that's not a real dream. at least not for me. (granted, i still would love to do it!) so i've been sitting here thinking about what some of the things that i've really wanted in my life are. probably the most important is ernest.

now, i know my parents will love reading that [ ;-) ], but it's true. i have no idea how i made myself believe that he would come to his senses and we would end up together somehow, but i did. and i'm sure nobody believed me when i would say that i was over it...well, actually i don't know if i ever really said to anyone that i was over it. ernest was my best friend when we were together. and we were so much alike, and at the same time, so completely different. i can definitely say that when i was 17 years old, i knew exactly what i wanted for the rest of my life and that was ernest.

so what else have i wanted? i have, for the longest time (beginning after i somewhat matured and developed a sense of decency...around the time my dad lost his job), always wanted to help people. namely women and children, but i've definitely come across stories about men who have been victimized in some way, shape or form that have really touched my heart. i want to help kids without any family, find parents that are as caring and loving as mine. i want all women and children to have the same opportunities that i have to make my life better. i just want to make a difference for someone somehow.

i really wanted to play softball forever. or at least for as long as physically possible. but, i messed that up. it was dumb of me to not believe in myself more. i was good. i miss it so much. and it would be cool if i could become a coach. i'm going to try that one day, with a girls club team. but it can't be my career.

so then what else have i wanted? nothing. what do i enjoy? sun, food, and writing. my mom keeps telling me that i'm a writer, but i don't feel like one. if i was such a great writer, or even a good one, i wouldn't keep getting B's on papers. i wouldn't dread writing as much as i do. yeah, i keep this blog, but half the time i lose my train of thought, and the other half i erase entire paragraphs.

i just don't know. why is this so difficult? i wish i knew where my choices have been leading me, but i don't. i wish i could figure everything out before graduation, but i know i won't. and right now, it's killing me.