The past four and a half years of your life are over and you are left with a very expensive piece of paper with a sticker. You stare at the paper for days after, hoping on the back you’ll find a clue on what exactly to do next, like Nicholas Cage in "National Treasure." You don’t have lemons though, and buying them is a luxury that you cannot afford with student loans coming in the coming months.

Two weeks have passed now and the congratulations have stopped coming. Now your dad calls every two days to ask how the job search is going. You have been looking. However, there’s been nothing to catch your eye yet. So you respond that it is slow going and keep making lists. Lists of what you could do, lists of where you could do it, lists of every company in your field you’ve ever maybe heard of.

Four weeks have passed and your list is three pages but has no check marks. The pressure of this decision never escapes your mind. You need to put your degree to use. You need to get a livable wage because the longer you live with your parents now the more you look like a failure. The more you look like you can’t get it together. You check your list.

How can you apply for a job when your room isn’t clean? You have to make sure that all your dishes are done. It can’t hurt to get a new candle, maybe the new scent will be inspirational. Why not paint your nails? Self-care is important, but can also be one of the most destructive habits you have. You check your list.

Six weeks have passed and you have now moved home with your parents. You’ll live there for the summer. Going back to your summer job is a way to save money and also a comfort. You know this job, you know the people, and you know what you can make. When you begin this year, you find a whole new love for this crappy job that gets you money. You start to see that, maybe, just maybe, you could sustain yourself here. You could stay at this job that’s familiar, stay near your family that’s comfortable, and be this happy all the time.

Deep down though, you know this is a fake happiness. You know that this is just a distraction. The rest of your life is on pause when you have this job to save money. With this job, the future is just that, the future. You check your list.

Eight weeks have passed and you feel it. You feel this readiness that you can’t explain. It’s a combination of butterflies and fire in the pit of your stomach and you do it. You apply for a job. You apply to three. All in your home state, but only two pertaining to your degree. The third is a wild card. The funny part is that they are the only one that calls you. Could going in for an interview really hurt? At the very least it is practice. You agree to a Wednesday at 10. You make a new list.

They could ask you anything. What if you forget your blood type? Do you know what your favorite fruit is? How do you properly change a tire? What are your greatest weaknesses? Who could forget the worst question of them all, though? What are your greatest strengths? You’re sure to wear plenty of deodorant and the blazer your mom bought you two years ago for Christmas. You’re asked lots of questions, given a tour, and engage with people throughout the building, awkwardly introducing yourself as the beads of sweat build on your upper lip.

At the end of it all, you are tired and more scared than you have ever been. You’re offered a position, but it doesn’t feel like the victory you were hoping for. You drive home, thinking the whole way back and taking the next day to consider as well. At the end of the day, you realize this is just another excuse. One more way to keep your future in the future. One more way to hide from responsibility.

Twelve weeks have passed. You’re still unsure and terrified of what the future holds, but you’re taking baby steps. Keeping money in the bank for when you do move, you make a timeline and check your list. It’s gotten longer, but now there are check marks to go along the edges. You’ve started to calm the seas that rage in your mind and heart. You see the excuses, both made by you and those that randomly present themselves. They still tempt you, but your piece of paper is hanging and the sticker shows your refection.

Your future is unfolding before you, slowly but surely. You check your list.