Designing Doubts

I never really knew what I wanted to be. I wasn't one of those kids with big dreams. I never had a plan. Whenever people asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I'd just shrug and say, "I don't know," because, honestly, I didn't. I wasn't the kid who had a vision for the future, I just thought I'd finish school and figure it out along the way. Go with the flow, you know?

But then school ended, and I realized life doesn't work that way. My parents, who were probably more worried than they let on, suggested I go to university. It wasn't exactly a hard choice—what else was I supposed to do? I didn't have any other plans, and at least they'd be relieved if I went.

And that's how I ended up in arts and design. I figured it was a way to buy myself some time, give me a chance to figure things out. Plus, I had a knack for it, right? I'm good at anything I try, but there's a problem—I'm a jack of all trades, master of none. Always good enough to get by, but never really excelling at anything. I'd always been that way. So I thought, "How hard could this be?"

Turns out, pretty hard.

From the moment I stepped into my first class, I felt out of place. I was surrounded by people who had been honing their craft for years—passionate, talented, driven. And then there was me. I was trying to catch up. I knew I didn't belong there, but I stuck with it, mostly because being around them pushed me to work harder. It was like I had to prove something, not just to them, but to myself.

And then, something clicked.

Interior design. I loved it. It was the first thing I'd ever truly connected with. The feeling of seeing my ideas come to life in a space—creating something out of nothing—was exhilarating. Sure, I wasn't amazing at it yet, but it was the most fun I'd ever had. I spent hours working on my projects, pouring everything into them, even when I felt like I was in over my head.

This is the story of how I went from being the aloof, unsure kid to someone who kinda cares. It's not just about the failures or the days I barely scraped through. It's also the story of how I met the love of my life—

"Celya, get off your phone! We're goanna be late!"

I looked up from my phone to see my mom standing in the doorway, arms crossed, waiting for me. "How can you be late for moving day, Mom? I'm ready."

She raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure, you are."

I sighed, shoving my phone into my pocket, ready to head out.

—Oh, I forget to tell you, I just don't know it yet