Do what you love disguises the fact that being able to choose a career primarily for personal reward is a privilege, a sign of socioeconomic class. Even if a self-employed graphic designer had parents who could pay for art school and co-sign a lease for a slick Brooklyn apartment, she can bestow DWYL as career advice upon those covetous of her success.
There needs to be a code word or something that means “my brain is fighting me every step of the way today and I feel like I’m going to vibrate out of my skin, so I need you to forgive everything and go slowly and speak softly and lower your expectations.” And then we could all just be like, “I know I said we could go to a movie tonight but… tangerines.” And the other person would nod and squeeze your elbow or rub your head and you wouldn’t feel like a failure.
Sometimes, you just can’t tell anybody how you really feel. Not because you don’t know why. Not because you don’t know your purpose. Not because you don’t trust them. But because you can’t find the right words to make them understand.
you know what’s dumb
the concept of treating adolescents like children throughout the entirety of their teenage years and then at around age 17 pulling a complete 180 and expecting them to decide within the next couple years what they want to do with the rest of their lives
you put it in words