Know. It. All.

What are you doing here? I don’t even know what I’m doing here. There must be a reason.

There must be a reason I wake up early every morning to an alarm that beeps four times. There must be a reason I count to twenty every time I wash my hands, and count down the hours of the week, praying they will go faster, be done sooner. And I know the reason is not to sit in AP classes counting the number of pages I read, or in SAT testing centers counting the number of points I score, playing college admission games. Life doesn’t subtract one-fourth of a point every time you make a mistake. I’m just wondering where I can sign up for classes I’ll actually use, and take a test that tells me what I’ve done correctly, not what I’ve done wrong.

I am not a number, and life is not a factory. There is no formula for greatness, so stop looking for it. Because in your search, you have become blind to what life and love and laughter can actually be.