Whenever anyone talks about me going to college, I have an instinctive reaction; my mouth dries up, my brain melts into a puddle of confusion, and left eye begins to twitch uncontrollably, as if the muscles beneath my skin are overcompensating in fear that I may become comatose at any minute. (That probably doesn't even make sense, but in my case, it does.) I guess I find difficulty in saying, "I don't know what I want to do with my life despite the fact that most others expect me to do great things like become a doctor or a psychologist. Honestly, I'd prefer a career that allows me to sit on my couch all day and eat burgers until I explode." Thoughts like that prove troublesome to express without being set ablaze by judgement rays. At this point in my education, I'm kind of rolling with the punches (whatever that means). I just hope I don't roll into cardboard box in an alleyway with only a dirty sock puppet and a collection can to keep me company.
To lighten things up, I will leave you with a video that displays the fact that I get along with the 8 year old that I tutor better than most people my age. I am also clearly not mature enough to be applying to college and would fare better if given the option to ride tiny scooters as a career. Somebody make that into a career.