I just graduated with my B.A. in Literature & Culture in December. I wanted that to be the end. I’m tired of school, tired of being surrounded by other people reeking of stress, tired of professors and their idiosyncratic methods of grading. I’m tired of playing the game called “Surviving Anxiety is just as good as Higher Education”. So why do my eyes burn from looking up Creative Writing M.F.A. Programmes for the past several hours?
I want to go home. I’ve moved my whole life. When I lived in Ireland, that finally felt like home. Currently I’m in America and all I can think of is the land I left in January and how to get back. This method looks like the easiest way, but it comes with a price tag far surpassing my post-grad pocketbook. I’m scared. There’s nothing else to it. What if I don’t get in? What if I do get in and I can’t afford it? What if I get in, can afford it, but can’t afford a house or food? What if I can’t remember how to play the school game? What if I fail?
Yay, welcome back anxiety. It’s been a whole three seconds. I was starting to miss you.