After My First Real All-Nighter of College

I came to a really terrifying realization around 12:30 this morning while attempting to write an 8 page essay for my Brit Lit class: I hate the English major. I hate essays, I hate destructing beautiful works by measuring every word of them, I hate being forced to read things I don't care about, I hate that it's making me hate reading and writing. So I'm not going to do it. I'm done. I did a totally different, fallibly short essay about how one of the major works we studied can't be properly understood today. That essay is crap. It's way too short, cites no sources, and will piss off my professor. But it's the only thing I can believe in and support as far as literature classes go these days. I'll choke out something acceptable for his final exam. But no more. The truly scary part about it is that I have been so sure for so long that English was where I was destined to be, that I feel like I'm throwing out my whole life and starting over. I'll have to declare a different major, meet different requirements, FIND something I'm interested in. But I feel so free, so happy with my freedom and my realization that English has never been right, I just thought it was good enough, or where I had to be to write at all. Oh no. Was I ever mistaken. I went through all the required courses for the English major and picked out the ones I would actually be interested in taking: all but one of those classes is covered by a Creative Writing minor. My life feels like a sham. I feel like I'm awake to myself for the first time. Now I just have to figure out where the hell to go from here.