Most of the conversations I have with my friends go a little something like this. We talk about some classes and our weekend plans, and then, slowly, the infamous question appears: “So, what do you want to do?”
It’s the question that asks about what comes after. It’s the question that reminds us of the weight of choosing a major or finding the perfect internship. And it’s the question that makes us feel like we’re supposed to have the correct answer, even as high school juniors.
Lately, I’ve realized how much pressure many of us feel to choose the right path early on. We overthink choosing the perfect career for ourselves. Not just one that pays well, but one that makes us happy, fulfills us, and justifies the time and money spent trying to get there.
Through some of my own reflections and conversations with my friends, I’ve discovered that I’m not the only one who feels this way.
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I talked to one of my friends, Laura, about this recently. She said, “Honestly, it’s a bit hypocritical for me to say this, but I think that most of the time Belmont students are so caught up in our futures that we end up neglecting to live in the present, which is a big pity since adolescence is such an exciting part of life.”
She continued, “It’s also really stressful trying to figure out who you want to be decades later when you’re not even sure who you are right now, you know?”
This pressure doesn’t just come from thinking about career choices. It also stems from the fact college feels like a measure of our worth. Getting into a top school can feel like validation for all of the work and sacrifices we’ve made throughout our high school years. And if we fail at that, we’ve not only let ourselves down, but also our parents, our teachers, or anyone who believes in us. Even when we know that an acceptance letter is not the end all be all, it’s hard not to internalize those expectations.
During one conversation, another friend referred to all of this as a quarter midlife crisis. (Though I’ve been told the “quarter” of our lives doesn’t even come until our 20s.) Right now, we’re being confronted with the idea that the choices we make can decide the rest of our lives.
Despite all of these thoughts, I still choose to believe in the possibility that these worries aren’t meaningless. Through the stress and uncertainty, one thing is clear: how deeply we care about building a life that matters to us. And maybe the most reassuring part is remembering that uncertainty is not forever. What feels unsettled now isn’t fixed; it’s just simply part of something still taking shape.
Christelle Moïse is a junior at Belmont High School with a passion for reading mysteries, ice skating, and listening to music. When she’s not focused on schoolwork or volunteering in her community, she channels her creativity into writing about teen mental health and pop culture. With a strong commitment to using her voice for good, Christelle strives to raise awareness of important issues and shed light on often overlooked perspectives.
