“I can’t wait to explain my reasons to you.”

Usually when someone asked why I dropped out, they were in for a ride. I prepared a list of facts and began fast talking my way through my decision. It was my time to validate myself. I tried to prove something.  I tried to show how intelligent I am. I insulted people who weren’t the same as me. I said everything to make myself feel good. 

I made the right choice but the truth isn’t so clear. I never explained why I personally dropped out, but why it was a factually good idea. It was only after I committed that I examined every aspect of the decision. It’s only now that I realize why I actually dropped out.

—

I spent my entire life running away from any unfavorable idea. I talked in a way to avoid conflicts. I held my tongue to avoid awkwardness. I did everything with one goal: avoiding pain.

I got a job under the mindset of fearing brokeness, not of chasing prosperity. I got good grades not to achieve, but to avoid failure. I feared failure so I didn’t take risks. I wanted to go to college because I feared forging my own path. I feared being financially unsuccessful. I feared being unmarried. I feared being alone.

My entire life was based on fear.

Everything I did was to avoid a negative. I was only acting in avoidance, like a scared rodent.  I wasn’t doing things to bring positive energy into my life because the only goal was running away from negative ones.

I wasn’t chasing happiness. I thought happiness had to come about if I avoided pain, hardship, and inconvenience. After all, those things are what I allowed to make me unhappy. Keeping them away meant I could focus on pretending to be happy. Or so I thought.

—

I was thought I was God’s gift to academia. My grades weren’t flawless but they were damn good. I was a teacher’s pet and planned to attend prestigious universities. Everything was going wonderfully.

And then I failed AP Chemistry II.

All my illusions collapsed simultaneously. I had stress breakdowns. I cried. I failed everything I ever cared about. Before this, I hadn’t seen something below a high B. I seemed alright on the outside but deep down, I was screaming.

When I arose from the ashes like a phoenix, I learned something that would change my life.

That class didn’t make me happy. I only enrolled to avoid taking a more difficult science class in college. I was basing my decisions on fear. I didn’t take the class to learn. I took it to give myself security. 

The snowball of questioning had begun. There was no stopping it.

I realized the only reason I was in school was to hide from fear. I lived to avoid future hardship. I worried relentlessly about unsavory possible lives and almost never considered which lives I would love. I wasn’t chasing happiness. I was running away from potential hardship. 

—

It only took a few weeks to realize I didn’t want to go back to school. School didn’t make me happy and going to school wouldn’t have been chasing happiness. I didn’t know why I was doing it beyond a simple decision that I’ll stand by my entire life.

No matter what, no matter when, I will not willingly do anything that makes me feel dead inside. If something doesn’t make me feel alive, I may as well be dead. Human lifespan is just not long enough to waste a single day doing something I don’t love. A walking corpse is no different than a buried one. I don’t want to just exist. I want to live!

I don’t like living in fear. I like living in spontaneity. I like chasing happiness.

Every day is a different day. In single moments, my beliefs change and my goals evolve. I’m on my own path and tomorrow is just as exciting as today. Living this way fills me with life. Living in fear makes me feel dead.

I dropped out of high school because I want to squeeze my human experience of as much value as I can. This means not wasting a single moment on any activity that doesn’t make me sing. It means not being in school. It means giving myself permission to chase after happiness and end the run from fear.

For many, it’s high school. For others, it’s a job that makes them feel dead or a relationship that doesn’t intellectually stimulate them. A city they can’t call home or a situation that makes them pull their hair out.

Odds are you don’t have more time than the rest. So take a moment.

What are you doing that makes you feel dead inside?