I'm exhausted. I really am. Emotionally.
Discouraged. Ego bruised. Generally down. Tired of recruiting. Tired of networking. Tired of filling out application after application, only to be answered with rejection after rejection. Tired of waiting for nothing to come into fruition. Most of all, tired of what growing up entails, if what it entails is the gradual coming into belief that nobody will take me, that nobody will want me, that I'm actually not good enough.
It's funny. I used to freak out about things like boys. Now those things couldn't be pushed further to the fringes of my mind. I think I'd sell my soul for a job offer right now. Maybe. Probably.
I feel like I'm living in a parallel universe to my friends and the people around me; a universe of job applications and corporate presentations and general panic attacks. I feel like I've long since gone to another planet, in fact. I'm in an astronaut suit looking down at the earth, at my roommates eating pinkberry and my friends partying in meatpacking and my mom watering the garden. I'm in lalaland by myself, having absolutely no fun at all.
Yep. The days of my youth truly are over. I'm no longer young enough to beg my mama for money to buy myself frivolous clothing and accessory items and elaborate socially-obligated meals. Yep. I'm a senior in college. And the next stop on this line is unemployment.
Optimistic, right? I wish I could be more optimistic. I used to be. Clutching my resume, smart blazer round my shoulders, black patent heels, my mascara on perfect, I was confident. I knew my resume was baller. I knew I had good references. I knew I had awesome experience. And most of all, I knew I could do well at the job I was applying to. But now I'm starting to realize that maybe all that wasn't enough. That maybe I had overestimated myself.
I don't have any connections. I don't have any backdoor contacts. My undergraduate degree is not business-related. I don't go to stern and I don't know how to network. What if this is my downfall?
I'm terrified, horrified, appalled. Mostly terrified. I don't want to be that girl my mom's friends will gossip about, so-and-so's daughter who insisted on majoring in something useless like English and as expected, graduated without a job. I don't want to be that embarrassment. I want to be a proves-you-wrong. Not a well-we-all-saw-that-coming.
I never was a perfectionist. I never was an overachiever. I never wanted to be extraordinary. I just want to be good, and I was always good enough.
But I'm just not so sure anymore.