The End of A Dream

In five months, I should be graduating. It’s not a huge secret that I am not in love with my course. On my best days, I view it as a slightly interesting thing to do, a pleasant way to use my brain and feel indignant about all the wrong things in the world and theoretically solve them in three thousand words, Times New Roman, size 12, one-inch margin on all sides. On my bad days, I find it unbearably boring. I mentally flagellate myself for choosing such a useless course (it is useless because I don’t plan to use it in the future), for thinking that it didn’t have any math in it (I’ve taken twelve units of economics, six of algebra, and three of statistics), and for wanting to be a lawyer four years ago.

So, in five months, I should be graduating. You can’t possibly imagine just how relieved I am. And you can’t possibly imagine what I want to do after. 

(Actually, you can. Lol.)

(Also, this was supposed to be a Deeply Introspective Post on what I learned in UP, how I have changed because of this unique education, what I like and dislike about myself after the experience—all the cheesy stuff. But I got distracted and one thing led to another which made me lose my mood. Give it a couple of months, I’ll get back to you with my Deeply Introspective Post.)