I entered college at the beginning of this year, eager to begin my life as a pre-med student. I was intent on becoming a neurosurgeon; I’ve always loved a challenge. I figured that the brain was one of the more interesting human organs, and above all, I wanted to save lives. In fact, that has been my dream ever since I was a little girl. Long before my senior year of high school, I had come to the conclusion that being a doctor was the best, if not the only, way to go about fulfilling this goal.

When I got to school, I was excited for my science classes. I had enjoyed science in high school, after all, and although I didn’t love it as much as English or History, I assumed that my somewhat apathetic attitude would be enough to get through my introductory classes. I was wrong.

I despised my schedule. I was bored and frustrated in my science requirements, and I found myself missing English more and more each day. After a particularly stressful week in which I called my mother, nearly in tears, I declared that I hated science and didn’t know how I could possibly spend over eight years working in something I hated. My mom suggested that I take a break from science, take classes in English the following semester, and go from there, but I was unsure.

After all, being a doctor had been my vision for myself for years. Of course, my childhood dream had been to be a writer, but I hadn’t thought it practical. The more I thought about it, however, I realized two things. First, I wasn’t going to be happy unless I did something that involved English or writing. Second, I could save lives by being a writer, in a different manner than I could save lives by being a doctor.

I remembered every book I read as a child making me feel as though I were a part of the story myself. I remembered picking up traits from my favorite heroines, such as Hermione Granger and Elizabeth Bennet, and I remembered the way books made me feel when I was a little girl. Every friend I have ever had has been wildly passionate about their favorite book, and quality literature has made an undeniable impact on the world.

I am still figuring out what I want to do with my life, but I’m exponentially happier with the knowledge that I’m studying something I love. I also have found comfort in the realization that I can make an impact in the world with nearly anything I study, English included. In fact, I believe that I will make an even bigger impact in a field about which I am extremely passionate, than in a field I don’t particularly enjoy.