My Museum of Failures, or a Gallery of Endless Learning?

Some people move through life with a clear sense of direction. Others collect experiences the way souvenirs are collected, proof they were somewhere even if they never stayed long. I think I might be the second kind.

I change my mind a lot. About careers, plans, and versions of myself. My life feels like a series of almosts, things I started with hope and left behind with quiet guilt. Science turned into commerce, commerce into psychology, and psychology into another unanswered question. I do not walk away because I am careless. I walk away because the moment something gets uncomfortable or demanding, I begin to doubt myself.

I crave stability but fear commitment. Staying feels heavier than leaving. Choosing one path means closing the door on others, and I am terrified of making the wrong choice and being stuck with it. I am rarely fully present. There is always a low hum of restlessness, the sense that I should be doing something else, becoming someone else, living a different version of my life.

I wanted a job for a long time, and when I finally got one that looked good on paper, it still felt hollow. Instead of pride, there was unease. Instead of relief, there was the quiet thought that maybe this is not it either. I keep feeling like I am late to my own life.

When things do not feel right, I replace them. Situations. Plans. People. I move on instead of sitting with discomfort, mistaking escape for growth.

There is also the weight of privilege. I am a nepo baby. Everything I have is in my dad’s name, and none of it feels truly mine. I have never built something from the ground up and said, I earned this. Because of that, my achievements feel borrowed, fragile, like they do not count unless I prove myself without a safety net.

Somewhere along the way, I lost clarity about who I am. I know my history, my doubts, my advantages, but I do not know my purpose. I do not know what I want badly enough to stay when things get difficult. I turn 22 this year, and I am not where I thought I would be. Then again, I do not think I ever knew where that was.

Some days this feels like a museum of failures, rooms filled with indecision and unfinished stories. Other days it feels like a gallery still under construction, messy and raw but alive. I am learning that uncertainty is not the same as being lost. I am learning that it is okay to not have all the answers. I am learning that I can keep showing up for myself, even when I do not know what comes next.

And maybe showing up is enough to start.