There was a time

There once was a time when I had dreams of becoming a veterinarian.

Now I'm not so sure.

I used to be absolutely, one hundred percent certain that that would be the path I would take. I thought I loved it. But recently I've been noticing a trend. Simply put, it makes me unhappy.

I love being involved, and being a part of the thrill and the bustle that is a veterinarian's life. I love the animals, and I love the puzzles that are presented with an animal case. But am I in love with the profession? I don't think so.

Whenever I come home from working at an office, there are a few things that I know:
-No one really wants to know what I've done that day (even though there's no such thing)
-My back hurts (from stress).
-I'm cranky.
-I'm starving.
-I usually hate humanity for neglecting their animals.

Does that mean it's something I want to do for life? I don't know that it does. I'm still trying to figure it out.

What do I really want to do?
Be a wildlife rehabber. But that doesn't pay in real money.


Marriage it is.