All my life, I hated school. I hated getting up early. I hated the long, endless walk, with my aching feet and heavy backpack. I hated lessons and being told what to do. When the bell rang, I was always the first one out of the door, even though I knew that tomorrow, I’d be back in this soul-crushing classroom, ready to do it all again. I would always complain that my life was awful, how much it sucked having to go to school, and how all I wanted to do was stay at home, eat sweets and watch television.

I’d do anything to stay at home. I remember very distinctively when I was about six years old, I got hold of a whiteboard pen and drew red dots all over my face so it would look like I had chicken pox. I thought it looked incredibly realistic, and would be convincing enough to fool my parents to let me stay at home. I’m sure you can guess what happened though. I was instructed to wash my face, pack my bag, and go and get my school shoes on. My parents thought it was absolutely hilarious. They even took a photo on our special family camera to put in our special family album. Looking at the picture of myself now, it is funny that I believed some smudged whiteboard pen and a few sorry looks would convince my parents that I was severely ill. In my opinion, they should have let me have the day off, as a reward for my creativity.

Learn, revise, test, repeat, that’s all I’ve known. Since I can remember. Now that structure has gone, and I don’t have to go to school, or study. It’s oddly freeing. Six-year-old me, who sat underneath the table with whiteboard pen on her face would be jumping for joy. Yet, simultaneously, not having that structure is terrifying.

Most children, specifically six-year old schoolgirls who draw red dots on their face with whiteboard pens, dream of a life where they can stay up all night and eat sweets until they’re sick. University is the perfect opportunity to do exactly that: pulling all-nighters after the club because sleep is for the weak, and just replace those sweets with tequila shots. Total independence. Complete freedom. You can eat whatever you like, you can go wherever you want. You can do anything! But you also have an academic purpose, and an academic structure, however loose, in place. You have a safety net.

You’re also not completely alone, you have your friends, your roommates, your housemates, boyfriends, girlfriends, lecturers, and tutors. That annoying next-door-neighbour who held a grudge for months, because of the one house party you had for your birthday. The cute old couple on the other side who made you biscuits every now and then. The club DJ who made you slightly uncomfortable because you came dressed as Harley Quinn that one time. You know, the whole gang.

But now, that’s it. You threw your hat in the air, shook some stranger’s hand onstage, and got a piece of paper saying that you completed your degree.

Congratulations! You’ve transitioned from complete freedom and your childhood dream, to living back with your parents, and being dependent again.

Having no structure is scary. Theoretically, you can do anything you want, but I think it is human nature to instinctively panic. Or at least, I instinctively panic. Not having anyone tell me what to do, or validate my achievements, or guide me away from failure, is absolutely terrifying. I have to be on my own, I have to be independent and make my own structure for myself. But I’m also constantly surrounded by reminders of how I don’t have complete freedom anymore. This isn’t my house. I can’t just go out and see my friends, because now, they live miles away from me. I can’t go and check in with my lecturer about books to read, because I don’t take classes with them anymore. I can’t go and ask my neighbour for biscuits because I’m not a charming student claiming to struggle living alone for the first time.

I can’t go to the student club . . . it’s full of students.

Of course everyone I know has flashy jobs with cars and boyfriends and girlfriends and happiness and awesomeness and everything. Don’t worry, I see it all over Instagram, I know.

But, for me, what now?

I think not having a plan is okay. I certainly don’t. I have no idea what I’m going to do tomorrow. And that’s scary, yes. But it’s also exciting, and incredibly liberating. Just like Barbie said, I can be anything I want. Also, go and see the film if you haven’t, it’s amazing.

It’s important to remind yourself: people post what they want you to see, and encourage you to believe that they have a perfect life. They have perfect jobs and perfect cars and perfect partners. But, surprise! They don’t. Everyone suffers pressure at work. No relationship is ever perfect, or sometimes even happy. People can’t keep their cars in perfect condition unless they just sit and look at it all day.

So, there is no answer. I can’t tell you how to be a 20-something year old post-graduate. However, I can advise you to live your life the way you want, to try your hardest to achieve your dreams, and to not listen to what social media tells you. Or just block all of the annoying people that throw their “perfect” lives in everyone’s faces, that works too.

Izzy’s #1 Insight: Their lives aren’t perfect. Their life is probably incredibly sad if they’re constantly attempting to show off how fabulous they are.

The future is uncertain, but that’s okay. And you don’t have to be happy or positive or anything, all of the time. There is nothing natural that continues, non-stop, for the whole year. Animals hibernate. Trees lose their leaves. Buds need time to blossom. So why put ridiculous amounts of pressure on yourself?