dear diary: sorry about the doom

On this day I was wearing my favorite red sweater and acquainting myself with this incredibly awesome-sauce vintage shop in my town. I was having the time of my life all by my lonesome (but really).

Anyway, can I be real with y'all for a bit: I graduate in exactly 10 days, and I am TERRIFIED. <-- That right there - that's putting it mildly. I'm happy about the part where I don't have to go to class or do homework or study for tests, and the fact that I've accomplished something a lot of people only dream about if at all, et cetera, et cetera.

Mostly though, I'm freaking out.

Because lately, all my best laid plans have been falling through at a rate that's just alarming. And I'm having the hardest time finding any direction at all.

Up until now, I haven't had to face rejection much. Everything huge and important that I've ever applied for or truly wanted has happened for me. I wanted to go to UGA - I got in; I needed a scholarship to fund my higher education - I got that as well and then some; I was even able to go to France for spring break all those eons ago, when by all intents and purposes I shouldn't have because it just wasn't fiscally feasible for my parents. What I'm getting at is that God has been gracious and things have mostly worked out for me.

That's not to say He isn't now. It's just been kind of bewildering and humbling lately with the amount of rejection I've been facing. I don't think I'm equipped to handle any of it as is evidenced by the fact that I've completely retreated from my own life. I'm in a perma-limbo state. I feel insulated and detached from my reality. Everything is so unreal and kind of awful. I feel like every fear I've ever harbored about my potential and capacity for succeeding at life is being realized.

I CANNOT become a deadbeat, and yet... I don't know, I feel myself becoming one. I'm moving back in with my parents. I'll be living in their basement (and I don't mean that figuratively; it's a fact). No one's offered me a job yet. I can't even find a sub-leaser for my apartment. It all seems a little too... Bleak. Or maybe I'm crying wolf and not all is as grim as I'm making it out to be. I honestly don't know.

But I'm sorry about the doom. This self-pity, it needed to come out somehow. And because of my little problem of being generally uncommunicative with the real people in my life, y'all are the unfortunate listeners to my sob story (assuming you've read all of this). I'll come back when I'm a little less woeful.