It was late, the fog nearly thick as the dark, smearing the trees on either side of the road into milky oblivion. My headlights granted me a small patch of visibility just ahead, and I fixed my eyes on the double yellow lines with the desperation of a child at sea clinging to a life preserver.
I knew the road well, but in the murk, it had suddenly morphed into a different creature entirely, eerily strange and impossibly long. I strained my eyes for the blinking yellow traffic-light that should be appearing at any moment, but only darkness filled my vision. The frantic thought even entered my head that perhaps I was on the wrong road, though I knew this was untrue. I had driven this road hundreds of times. I knew exactly where I was going. Still, I held my breath until that familiar yellow light winked lazily through the haze.
Only a few scenarios would have made that situation more terrifying. Scenario #1: An axe murderer appears on the side of the road. Scenario #2: My car breaks down. Scenario #3: The road is one I have never driven before.
The effect the dark and fog had on me that night, though it was really only a mild bout of paranoid anxiety, made me realize why I'm so terrified of life at this point in my journey. Because the road I'm on now is one I've never been on before--this highway of growing up, adulthood, independence, whatever you'd like to call it. I can barely see the ground before my feet. I'm driving painfully slow, afraid a sharp curve will suddenly appear, or the edge of a cliff. All I've got is my little square of light, and what if the next object it illuminates is an axe murderer? I'm blocked on all sides by the unknown, and this road never seems to end. I keep thinking, soon, soon, soon, but my headlights only reveal another empty stretch of road.
But the thing is, if I spend all my time looking at the shadows, I will inevitably crash. I do have a light source, small as it may seem in my own warped perspective. That light is guiding me, foot by foot, mile by mile. It pierces the darkness just enough to tunnel me through it, if I will but watch where it leads me. I may only see it glimpse by glimpse, but I trust that I am on the right road. And somewhere in the night ahead, a brighter light beckons, calling me home.
I think that your adulthood is going to be better than you realize. You're an unusual soul with old-soul insights into life. You're also talented and now certifiably educated. Doors will be opening for you, and the light that comes through those open doors I think will be visible even through the haze.
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