My fears of failure went hand in hand with my fear of taking responsibility for my actions. If I was to fail on the path that my parents put me on, I'd have them to blame for my shortcomings. If I was to fail on the path I put myself on, well then I'd have no one to blame but myself. Recently, I pondered which was worse: living the life my parents envisioned for me or taking that necessary risk in hopes of accomplishing my dreams, however unlikely. It was conflicting. I wanted the security, the stability, but knew that in the long run I'd hate myself for not trying. There was so much risk in trying, but then again, what was life without a little uncertainty every now and again?
Who knows, maybe things would work out for the best--or maybe not. The point is, no matter how much I'd like to think that one decision is more foreseeable than another, the reality is that there's no telling where life will take you. The belief that sacrificing my happiness for some semblance of comfort wasn't something I was willing to tolerate any longer. Life is fragile, fleeting, and ever changing, so let's not risk mundanity, and instead a chance at lasting happiness.