That’s exactly what this is. I’m feel poignant and fantastic and it’s nearly one in the morning, so obviously the best option for me right now is to write. I don’t exactly know what I’m going to write about exactly, but I think that’s the best thing right now. I haven’t exactly known anything for a very long time now. When I first started not knowing exactly anything I thought it was frustrating. Now I think it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me because I’m thinking about exactly nothing in particular and I’m able to wander and wander and wander around in my head for something even a little significant.
I obviously haven’t yielded (“i” before “e” except after “c”) anything significant yet, but I think I will eventually. I think everyone has to yield something significant eventually, whether it be a recipe, a child, a thought, a book, a new way to raise teacup pigs or something else a little extraordinary. I think one day I’ll yield something significant, but I need to work on making me significant enough to get to that point. Does any of that make sense? Probably not.
I don’t really care that it doesn’t make any sense because this is me wandering and wandering and wandering around in my head. I’m trying to come to some sort of a conclusion because I absolutely can’t stand dead ends or cold trails, but it’s been 18 years in the making and I still haven’t come to any sort of a conclusion about anything. Maybe that’s a good thing though, because maybe an 18 year old shouldn’t be coming to any conclusions—that should be reserved for the Geriatric crowd—and I’m supposed to be wandering and wandering and wandering, but that still doesn’t make it any less frustrating.
I don’t know, I just don’t know anything any more. My name is Jaclyn, but people who’ve known me since forever call me Jaci (Jack-ie, not Jace-ey, not Jace, Jack-ie; like Jackie-O, but less glamorous), so I’m not even exactly sure of what I’m called. My grandfather even called me Mandy once or twice because my middle name is Amanda, but that doesn’t make much sense because I’ve never been called that by anyone else. So, I don’t know what I’m called.
I’m 18 and I’m in college, but really really really, should I be? I’m only 18 after all. A whole year younger than most of the people starting out this year, but why should that matter? I’m smarter/tougher/more fantastic than them, right? Wrong, probably. Maybe. Who knows? Not me, obviously. I don’t exactly know anything.
Now I’m just making up excuses because of course I should be in college. I shouldn’t be over there in Africa volunteering in a village to help small kids learn math or scrape a living. I shouldn’t even be thinking about enlisting in the Peace Corps because that would just be stupid and a waste of time, right? Wrong, probably. Maybe. I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up (right, when’s that exactly?), but at the same time I know exactly what I want to do right herenowforeverandever. It’s the only thing I exactly know, and I’ve been holding onto it for dear dear dear life since I was maybe ten years old, so please be gentle with it and don’t break it. Goals are sometimes the only things that are really ours and really original, because everything else has been done before. Not doing things, but wanting them is totally original to the individual, because no one else has wanted exactly what I want, when I want it.
I want to help people and I want people to love me and need me because I’m me and I’m doing something necessary for them. I want someone to love me so much they can’t keep it a secret, and I want to love someone so much that I literally would not be able to function without knowing they were in my life somehow. I’ve never felt that, and obviously that’s not going to happen any time soon, right? Maybe not, maybe yes, I don’t know because I don’t know anything exactly for sure except for exactly what I want.
One day, I’m going to know exactly everything about me. More about me than my mother thinks she knows, and more about me than my father says he knows, but probably not more about me than is possible to know because I can’t know what I’m going to want tomorrow. Wants and needs are the only things that drive people, and people drive the world. What if people wanted only good things for the person sitting to their left? Would the world spin the other way and would people start pulling their pockets for someone else?
Probably, maybe. I don’t know because I don’t know anything exactly for sure.
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