What am I doing?

I have no idea what to do--or what I'm doing--now. Can somebody tell me?

For you who does not know who I am, I am not a writer who writes to impress others with fancy words or intricate messages. I am but a novice who, at the still-tender age of 15, believes that I am perfectly unimaginative and that the only reason why I do this is because I cannot keep my emotions bottled up. I just cannot.

Maybe it could have been easier for me to just talk to someone--anyone--rather than just waste my time and yours writing and reading this, but trust if I could've, then I would've. And before I start to veer off the direction I want, allow me to reiterate myself:

I have no idea what to do--or what I'm doing.

Whenever I look around me, I realize that I am surrounded in full circle by people who have something they want to be; people who have this burning passion for something. I've seen those who like to cook, those who are dedicated to their sport, those that enjoy literature--reading and writing them--more than me. Ohmaygawhd. (heads up, this really is somewhat a rant. My organization is a complete bokya or zero. Stop reading if you don't want to sleep with your mind in knots; and I went really off topic so you can decide to quit while you're still ahead)

So where am I in all of this? I'm the kid who's just trying to pass with so much as crawling colors. Don't get me wrong I love love love high school. I enjoy the environment composed of teachers, students, classrooms, and books. In fact, I've grown quite fond of it that I'm actually growing scared to leave it.

Call me a coward, wuss, or scaredy cat, but I've always lived in fear. With my habit of pessimistically overthinking things, I imagine every situation such that it leads to the worst possible, most degrading storyline ever, which really anchors me down. It prevents me from striking up conversations with girls but is not restricted to that, no. Living in strong fear of the worst that has yet and most unlikely to become locks me up; ties me in shackles that I don't want to remove because this is the only thing holding me back, keeping me sane. I fear that the moment I lose these shackles, the moment I let go, that everyone around would just hammer me down for being free.

My fear invokes in me the thought of leaving comfort. I don't want to go to separate colleges away from my friends. I don't want to live in dorms far from home. I'm scared of being pressured to decide a future that only brings me money in exchange for happiness. I dread the thought of stepping forward into life and officially joining society. Like a newborn baby, I feel exposed.

And I hate it. I hate this feeling of believing that the worst CAN happen because the worst WILL. The only difference between the two is that I have to man up to it because this is what growing up is. That my fear, my anxiety will go down as my confidence reaches new heights.

I have to make choices freely; do what I love. 50% brain and 100% heart when choosing. Build up the adrenaline, feel the blood rushing my head. Choose. Choose. CHOOSE. BUT WHAT DO I CHOOSE? What do I do when I have nothing burn in me? That the only thing flowing in my heart is cold blood. "A jack of all trades yet master" of none is what I am so how can you tell me to just choose when my future is resting upon this single choice? Who gave you the right to crush the spirits of a teen by telling him to pick what he wants yet expects you to earn a lot of bucks.

"It's for your future, so go where the money is"

Yes, it is MINE. So what right do you possess to narrow down my options to those that YOU wished to be?

"You shouldn't, the pay isn't worth the effort."

Then why are those underpaying jobs the jobs that serve as the strong foundation of the country?

I realize now that I was not born afraid, or was I made an insecure, but the people around have shaped me into something I wish I had not become. I have become someone who shouldn't be someone: A person bound by the qualifications of society. I am becoming a match stick inside a match box believing that all I can do is light a tiny flame because that's what they all say when in fact I am enough of a spark to cause inferno. I envy those who can resist the circumstances of society like a rock; those that are comfortable in doing what they wish and pursuing that dream endlessly like a child chasing a paper plane, with no fear of falling. I am not that person. So tell me, what should I really do? When the world tells me to conform, is it your choice to make--or mine?