carpe diem.
live for today, don’t think about tomorrow.
It seems like a great way to live, right? Do exactly what you what when you want. Live in the moment. Make every second count. Use only the information you have right now to make decisions. No worries, no fears. Only now.

If I was to live completely by carpe diem, I’d spend most of my $3,000 savings to buy a plane ticket to Europe. My current destination is Edinburgh, Scotland. I’ve gone so far to make a list of the things I would pack: plain tshirts, jeans, converse, lacy bralettes, oversized sweatshirts, flannels, my leather jacket, my work boots, my rose gold watch, my macbook, and a fancy camera I don’t yet own. I’d arrive with a backpack and a duffel, find a trendy yet cheap hostel, and settle in. I’d spend a week doing touristy stuff so I could get it all out of the way. I’d observe, gather information, and start writing my first book.

Every morning I’d venture out with my laptop and my journal. I’d pour my heart into the pages, sip my coffee out of a real mug, and smile at every couple that passed me by. I’d have so many pent up ideas that they would fly out of my fingers. Of course, they would all be dystopian romances with just a little too much description in the sex scenes to be considered YA literature, or literature at all. My American accent would be softened by Scottish syllables and I would start using words like aye, wee, fancy, arse, and numpty.

Carpe diem says I should buy my plane ticket tomorrow. Rational sense says get my government-paid-for university education and do something useful. My heart say something different every minute.

Honestly, if someone told me I will die in the next six years, I would buy the ticket and I wouldn’t look back. But if I’m going to make it through more than six years, then I think I have enough passion and intelligence to make a real difference in the world, or at least in some lives, through medicine.

Right now I’m choosing to take the future into consideration. I’m choosing to believe that I have more than six years left in me. I’m choosing to believe in myself and in my potential.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

Maybe I’m using the future to keep me from what I really want to do. Maybe I’m too scared to follow my European dream. Maybe I’ve become too normal , too integrated into society to follow an outlandish dream. But maybe my heart is just too fickle, because I do love science and I do love college and I do love learning. Maybe I only want to travel to Europe to write because it’s trendy. I’ve never been brave enough to share any of my fictional writing before, mostly because it’s complete shit. All I know is I love to write and I love science and I’m not sure what path I’m suppose to take. I am so happy, but would I be happier following another dream? Am I doing what is right?

I don’t think that’s something I’ll ever know.


yes i staged this photo of my current suitcase // no it does not reflect my dream duffel accurately





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