Oh what a wonderful adventure it would be to truly live. To not be stuck in the limbo of trying to kick-start a life which society believes me to be too young for. Aged as I am, I do not fit the criteria to begin exploring everything I wish to. Trapped, I am forced into engaging in compulsory activities that truly hold no importance in my mind.
For example: the subjects seen as vital we are forced upon in school are not as perfectly chosen as they seem. I am soon to get a piece of paper that defines whether or not I am qualified to begin living. With it in my hand, I may continue around the monopoly board in a never ending circle of need money and learning how to acquire it. However, even this soon-to-be artefact has a debated rank of importance. As often told to us by news readers and their skilful script-writers, without money, we lack a fulfilling and hearty education. And yet others with inform us that education is the basis of everything, and that without it, we hold no hope for living a comfortable, affordable life. This piece of paper must have a hidden meaning, with it appearing to be one I am unable to decipher, and this is coming from someone who picks apart poetry for fun any chance she gets. For on this paper, my supposed future employer is supposed to be able to tell if I am diligent, kind-hearted and easy to work with. With this in mind, I headed into exams expecting to change my mindset and finally find clarity. I am sad to say that I have not achieved this goal. So I find myself still desperate to learn why it is that I know the quadratic formula off by heart, and yet if, sometime in the future, my toddling child gains a rash that doesn’t pale when pressed against glass, I will not know that I have a very short window of time to call an ambulance as the angel I brought to the world is likely to have meningitis. What goes through the minds of the exams boards when deciding that it is more important for me to be able to convert moles into faradays than it is to understand how to pay my taxes or write an all important cheque.
As it stands, I must stretch the capability of my memory and play ignorant to my mental health in order to prove that I can remember information that, unless my career is set in a very specific course, I will forget within minutes of my final exam. Here I am. Stuck trying to find both myself and the value of X whilst endeavouring to hold a social life, stay mentally healthy, keep up my physical health, get the required eight hours of sleep and study in every spare moment for fear I will not get the grades to show for eleven or so years of my life! And all the while, I’m here dreaming about all the things I wish to do in the gap between my the end to my education and the day I am forgotten. But that is a story for another day.