At 19 years old I have felt loss before. Up until recently I had only thought there were three types of loss in the world. The literal act of losing something, falling out of love and death. 

I felt my world fall down around me when I was 12 years old and my nana passed away suddenly from a heart attack. I witnessed my family fall apart, my parents weep and the person I seen as safety disappear. 

Aged 18 I discovered that life really is precious when my Dad was diagnosed with heart failure and nearly died. It was at this time I really found that my parents are just people, guessing as much as the rest of us and fumbling around trying to make it. I saw my dad, terrified and scared that he might not see his daughter again. And I saw my mum cry in the lift as she walked away from his hospital bed carrying his nightgown tight into herself praying she'd get to tell him she loved him one more time. It was at this time that I lost part of who I was. I discovered my parents need taking care of as much as me and they are just as scared. The security blanket of my parents knowledge and experience had been ripped from under me and left me crying on the floor pondering how I was ever going to make it out alive. 

A few months later I went through a break up. I insisted on having an outwardly happy and freed persona but inside I was screaming at myself "what have you done!?". I felt alone and like I was slowly feeling my heart fall to pieces. I lied to everyone around me in an attempt to convince myself that I was infact doing better than ever before. But I wasn't and I discovered I wasn't better off without him and he makes me happier with every day that passes.

I had thought that these three kinds of loss were all that existed. I didn't think life could be as cruel as to have anything more heart wrenching. But I found I was wrong in January of 2016. I had decided to Study English in September of this year because if you can't tell, I love to write. But I did a LOT of research and discovered that the topics covered in every English university course in Ireland weren't what I needed them to be. This paired with the lack of sustainable jobs in the field meant I simply couldn't embark on studying English. Instead, after thorough research on maximizing my employability both in Ireland and around the world, I decided to study business. 

I chose to tell myself this was the wisest option. That making my parents fund my college career to end up with no real career would be selfish. But we all know the truth and the reason I have had so many problems coming to terms with this: I'm giving up on my life long dream. I began to feel like I had lost a part of me and a part of my future. The future as I had imagined it no longer existed. It was and would forever be a figment of my imagination. I'd never see MY name on the cover of a best seller. I'd never have the publisher deadlines or evenings writing by the fire. The columns and the articles will always be fantasies. 

I would text with my closest friends about my decision and with every word I typed another tear would fall until my body was shaking and I could no longer see the screen before me. I never admitted how much it hurt when my parents and friends parents would tell me its a shame for such talent to go to waste. How I could literally feel my heart shatter a little more with every shocked expression I was met with. 

I had tried to write about this for so long but every time I took to my laptop I was awash with a kind of sadness I'd never felt before. My hands wouldn't let me type and my brain just wasn't ready to accept it. But apparently now I am. I'm no longer a wanna be writer. I'm a wanna be business woman. And I'm trying to be okay with that.