At the beginning of this year, I had a long and stifling moment of doubt over my career choice. It occasionally comes back in nauseating waves. I trip over the ideas of what I will expect from myself as a journalist. This does not complement the worry I have when, every time I have to fill up my car, I bid farewell to more cash notes than before.
Realistically, I am not confident in the world of journalism anymore. I wonder about whether these internships will pay off. I think about how being a journalist will sustain me. I do not know where to start; I do not know how I will become successful. Truly, I loathe the idea of doing menial jobs for the rest of my life, and asking my parents to bail me out would be a real-life nightmare.