Something in The Help always seems to stick with me: that Elaine Stein told Skeeter to write something that bothered her, particularly if it bothered no one else. Identifying with Skeeter, I vowed to find my own something to write about.
However, sitting in my bedroom with nothing but tumblr for company about 76% of the time doesn't really allow me to find something that bothers me but bothers no one else.
What I've managed to find that actually bothers me is that people criticize me for the endeavor to find something that bothers me and write about it, trying to bring about change. People criticize me for having goals and knowing what I want. My own family thinks I'm a nutcase because my goal isn't to end up in a town in the middle of nowhere sitting around the dinner table with the rest of them when I'm old, talking about my broken hip and my blood tests.
People criticize me because I want to be somebody and go somewhere and that I'm willing to work hard to get there, and that not only am I willing, but that I do work hard to get there. I make short-term goals to get to my long-term goals. I find things to spend my time on because I care about them and I think that maybe someone else in the world will find it in him/her to care about them too.
Why am I being punished for having a goal and a direction, when everyone else around me is content with a mundane life of unimportance?