When I was 16, I was obsessed with many things. There was a navy blue throw pillow that I hugged every single night and I swear it made sleep 10x better. Though it was more than three years old and very smelly, I couldn’t get myself to give it up. My mom threw it away one day before I got home from school and I was angry at her for about a week. I got a new blue throw pillow that was never nearly as good as the old one, but it did the trick, sort of. I was also deeply obsessed with a Shakira record called “How Do You Do”, and though it was accompanied by very underwhelming and pop-py songs in the rest of the album, I liked it because Shak dared to ask God things that I wanted to ask him/her as well.  My mom didn’t like the song, she wasn’t too fond of the whole questioning God thing. I’m beginning to notice a trend here…To be fair, one obsession that my mom was very okay with was my deep longing for getting to college.

I didn’t know how I would do it, or if it would happen the way I wished it would happen, but I knew that my entire being was incessantly working towards getting there. In my junior and senior years of high school, I stayed up past 2am pretty much everyday to make it happen, only to wake up at 6am the following morning to repeat the ritual once again. There were other obsessions happening concurrently, but none nearly as huge as me knowing I’d be absolutely demolishing statistics if I actually did make it to a four-year university. That pleasure was far too alluring for me to let it pass, and so, with a lot of help and some luck from the Universe I made it happen.

At 21, I’m obsessed with many things. Thankfully, these don’t include a throw pillow, or a Shakira single.  I’m now largely obsessed with the lack of instructions that this period of my life has. I’m turning 22 in less than a month, and two months after that, I’ll be graduating college with a bachelor’s degree. A couple of days ago, a friend of mine asked me if I planned to get married anytime soon after graduating. The idea was too ludicrous for me to even consider, “You’re kidding right? I don’t wanna be married until I’m 40-at least,” I replied. She was shocked. And so was I, but only at her thinking that I would ever want to commit to another human being for the rest of my life at the tender and naive age of 22. 11 years ago I was 11. I don’t think an 11 year old plus 11 years should be making commitments like getting married.

I’ve always been obsessed with a lot of things. But right now I’m completely obsessed with the taste of the uninhibited and perverse sense of freedom college ending is bringing me. I think this is what it was all getting at, the metaphor of the glass ceiling, the constant and urgent message that college would “make my life better.” This is it. I can’t believe it’s almost over. Looking back, I can’t believe I got here in the first place. Well I can say one thing, I used to ask myself, “What can I do with what I have now?” and lately I’ve been asking, “What can’t I do?” And I’m completely obsessed with it.