I’m sitting here, staring at a blank screen that’s becoming a little less blank with every strike of my finger. I have no direction in mind for this piece–just a lot of thoughts and nowhere else to take them.

I wish I was a better writer, the best even. 

I wish I had more original thoughts, the kind of profound realizations that permanently alter the way you, the reader, think. 

In college, my professors treated me like the second coming of Christ.

As a matter of fact, all throughout my time in school, my teachers treated me like an investment. They believed in me. They knew I was going to go far. 

Now, I’m 26, living with my dad still, and working a low-rank, disposable role at an unremarkable marketing agency. 

I have nothing to show for being the second coming of Christ. We’re sitting on a 0:1 ROI. I live within 10 miles of the high school I went to; I didn’t go far; I didn’t go anywhere. 

My predicted forecast has grown cloudy. My trajectory is facing an exponential decay relative to projection. 

Whenever I open any social media platform, I see another one of my classmates getting engaged, or buying a house, or welcoming a child into the world. 

Happiness seemingly found them with ease, embraced them with wide arms. Happiness hunted them; in no world would they have ever been in my shoes. 

I wonder if they were ever the second coming of Christ to anyone. 

There are so many directions in which I could have gone. There are still so many directions in which I could go. 

This isn’t as promising as it sounds.

It’s overwhelming. It’s too much. I’m on hour 1 of an 18-hour road trip. 

Why couldn’t I have left sooner? Why couldn’t I have taken a plane? Where am I even going? 

I wish my brain understood math. Maybe instead I’d be working a high-ranked, indisposable position at a remarkable financial institute. At the very least, I’d have my own apartment. 

I wish I got my degree in something that had a more straightforward path to the sort of success into which I don’t have to put too much individual thought. The sort of success that’s achieved through climbing the corporate ladder. 

I wish I had rich parents.

I wish my life wasn’t in my own hands. 

I wish I had more ambition.

I wish I was better. At everything.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

Yes, there will be a day I live a fulfilling life where I wish for nothing because I have everything. Because I am everything.

But, until then, all I can do is keep wishing. And continue being the unremarkable second coming of Christ.