My 2016 ID photo hasn't changed since last year's...

This is Year 12. The year when everything has to be perfect. The year when a Year 11 is shaped into an adult, ready to face the world. The year when all of a sudden, without any warning and barely any guidance, a 17/18 year old faces the question (approximately a million times):
What would you like to do after school?
Um, shut up? Go ask someone who knows.

​Fairly sure I'd rather curl up and struggle through the rest of my maths homework listening to sad love songs than deciding whether I want to be:

1. A doctor (who doesn't like making people feel better?)
2. A lawyer (I just want to wear expensive-looking clothes to work)
3. A scientist (I'd love a Noble Prize tucked up my sleeve)
4. An author (let's focus on something more realistic, yeah?)
5. An interior designer (my house will look like a magazine)
6. Or a personal trainer (not because I actually ​enjoy fitness, my friends just all go to the gym).

Which shines a spotlight on how much I truly hate thinking about the future, especially since I avoid it by doing maths. Perhaps I should write that again, let it sink in. I do maths to stop thinking about the year after 2016. Scary.

There's a certain beauty in being able to know exactly what you want. If that is you, PLEASE LEAVE. This is a formal warning. No, stay. Really. I'm just jealous. Tell me how you do it. People tell me it's smart to keep your options open, precisely why I chose English, Maths, Chemistry, Biology (and, last year, French) as my Year 12 subjects. But that concept died and fossilised under a rock fifty-thousand years ago.
I know one thing: I do not, or will ever, want to become an Engineer. Eughaaahugh.

Sorry, Engineers.

Sorry, not sorry. I just really don't like maths. It's Term 1, 2016 and it's taking me a half an hour to finish 6 questions (yes, I timed myself). Half an hour is a long time in total misery.

So I can cross maths off the list.

Chemistry. Everything is just so small, tiny little molecules that make up everything around us. Great! Just not for me.

Biology + English = LOVE

Biology + English (as a job) = poor scientist with killer narrative writing skills. See the issue? And now they want me to pick an occupation?!?! I've been in school for the past 12 years, people. Pfft, let's all just calm down a notch.