Why is it that if a college conversation with my parents lasts for more than about five minutes I get flustered and panicked and overwhelmed and just want to run upstairs and jump under my covers and bawl like a baby?
Why do the rings around Sacremento that my dad drew on Google Earth give me a welcome excuse to narrow my search while simultaneously scaring the crap out of me that I might overlook some dream school in Los Angeles or something?
Why do I tell my parents to give me a financial amount to work with when I really really don't want to feel limited by money, or lack of money?
Do I want to stick with the safety of in-state and reduce the overwhelming-ness of this search by a lot, or do I want to go ahead and look around in New England because my perfect school just might be somewhere in Boston that I can never afford?
The answer to all these questions is my least favorite sentence.
I. Don't. Know.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to begin my descent into madness by crying in a ball under the covers.
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