'Thirteen'

I'm worried that someday maybe my life won't amount to anything. \nI started college with lofty goals, how I was going to be a journalist to help people. I'd write about the untouchables no one had heard about who needed help and inform the world. Educate to freedom, that sort of thing. If you knew that my basic beginning political education came from Rage Against the Machine you'd believe too. \nMaybe I'm just worried because I don't understand how the world works. I think weird thoughts a lot of the time, things about what would I do if my parents or little brother died, or how could I cope if my boyfriend got into a car accident on the way home from the movie theater. If I would call his parents or if I would have the police do it. I think about how our government is moving into a continent it doesn't know, without even helping those most in need. About how we are trying to push our moral limitations on the people who need help instead of giving them medicine or a practical education I worry about not practicing drums enough, having multiple jobs, how I'm going to pay bills this semester, social skills and eating too much. \nTonight I started crying. My boyfriend told me a funny joke and I started laughing hard, which spread to tears and trembling. He got worried and I couldn't explain what was happening. I didn't know. Now's he singing to cheer me up -- that song from the "Pocahontas" cartoon. \nWhen I look at my friends present and past I see people who battle depression, are cynical about the people that should give them pride and people who, while wanting the world to be better, don't know what to do about it. \nThree of them left for Europe this week -- a too-expensive-for-me vacation to last for a month. \nIn high school within the span of a month I had to talk to two friends who were seriously debating/attempting suicide. In college I meet people who use drugs (no judgement call, please, just saying) and alcohol to escape the not-so-harsh world we live in. I've done it a couple of times too. \nSo, what's the next great American novel going to be? A story about rich racist youth, who while well provided for, can't always afford college. If they go, they get a half-rate education that can't be bolstered by independent reading for too much homework and too many minimum wage hours to support the tuition. Maybe the action apex will include the States propelling the world into Armageddon by starting wars on multiple continents at the same time, making up lies about weapons of mass destruction while ignoring the plight of the innocents. \nWith the facts I'm still an optimist. I figure things will work out in the end. I'm happier now than I ever have been. But I worry that being personally happy will make me avoid searching out a greater cause or good, if there is one. Besides, while I came in a writer, now I don't know what I love to do anymore or care where I end up working, as long as it's not for one of those Gannet newspapers. \nWhen I was younger and even more idealistic, I told my dad that of course I know what the meaning of life is - helping other people. Now I wonder if I do that enough. Maybe giving someone something to relate to or eventually making people happy with my band's music counts. \nI might be homesick. But I don't have the money for the insurance deductible for my friend's car (boy in Europe, I borrowed) so I can't go home. These walls are thin but at least they'll keep out the rain. At the end and beginning of the day, I'm always satisfied because one day, my boyfriend learned my favorite Big Star song just for me.