In my senior year of high-school I fell into a sort of rut. I put minimal effort into most things and pretty much coasted through blaming it all on so-called ‘senioritus.’ Entering my first semester of college I regained some of the drive that had motivated me my entire life. I was in a new city, completely on my own for the first time, excited for new experiences and new people. After doing relatively well academically I entered my second semester in complete disappointment. I hadn’t made many new friends. I still felt hopelessly trapped. I hadn’t become the ideal ‘college me’ that I had fashioned myself in my daydreams. A deep sense of failure begin to root itself in my mind. Then I failed. Well, I got a D and I was faced for the first time with what we’ll call ‘reality.’ I wasn’t going to succeed because I wanted to. I wasn’t going to be able to coast all the way to a degree, at least not a good degree. So, I started the fall semester knowing all this, telling myself I’d be better. I knew what I had to do now. Fail. Fail. Fail. The same sense of complacency and the complete and utter lack of motivation, passion plagued the entire semester and my GPA continued to reflect such. Now I’m sitting here halfway through my second spring semester in college and I’m letting the same self-imposed problems hold me back. I’m jeopardizing my future and I don’t know how to stop myself. It’s easy to tell myself what I need to do, not so much to actually do it. I love journalism. I love politics. I love to write. I love to talk to new people and experience new things. I know what I want to do. Why can’t I get out of my own way and do what needs to be done to get there?