Unqualified and Uncertain

What's Next? And Other Unanswered Questions.

I didn’t think it would feel like this.

I always thought I’d feel different by now. Like I’d know what I was doing. Like I’d have some plan—some roadmap—anything to anchor me. But all I’ve got is this silence. This strange, empty space is where my next step should be. I’ve officially written my last exam as an undergrad. Yeah, it’s truly over. And yet... it doesn’t feel like something else has begun. It just feels like nothing.

For the past few years, I've moved with a script. College gave me rhythm, direction—a checklist of things to do: classes, assignments, internships, projects, networking. Even in the chaos, I knew what was expected. There was a system. A structure.

And now? Now it’s just me. A dozen tabs open. Job portals. A blank document. And a quiet, creeping uncertainty. The one plan I had for further studies didn’t work out, so here I am, with even more questions and even less clarity.

I scroll through job listings, but everything feels slightly off. The roles are vague, the companies unfamiliar, the qualifications either too much or too little—never quite the right fit. “3–5 years of experience” for an entry-level position. “Self-starter.” “Adaptable.” Sure, that makes sense in theory, but what exactly is the role? What does this company even do? Is this real—or is it just another scam hidden in corporate language? Each listing feels like a quiet nudge, a reminder of everything I am not. Or at least, everything I don’t feel like I am right now. Still, I keep applying. Not because I genuinely want these jobs, but because I need some kind of confirmation that I am seen. That what I’ve done so far hasn’t disappeared into a void. That I still matter. That I am not invisible. Someone will want me, right?

But then I pause to recalibrate. Why am I chasing things I don’t want? Why am I stuck in this cycle of performance and pretence? I am not applying out of ambition anymore—I am applying because it’s the only thing I know how to do. The only motion that feels like progress. Even if it’s not.

And the job market? It feels broken and warped. Like a system designed to exhaust you. Positions are posted and then vanish. Applications disappear into voids. Some listings feel performative, like they’re not even meant to be filled—just placeholders for some illusion of opportunity. And meanwhile, we—the fresh graduates, the so-called “young talent”—are asked to jump through hoops with no end in sight. We’re told to hustle, to be grateful, to be patient, to be extraordinary. All at once.

I open LinkedIn. It asks, “Do you want to show you’re open to work?” And every time, I hesitate. I am not sure why. Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe I just don’t want the algorithm to decide who I am before I do. Maybe I am afraid of seeming desperate, like my peers will judge me for it. But then again, they’re all doing it too. So what exactly am I afraid of?

And then there’s school—again. A tempting escape route. A delay button. I catch myself googling graduate programs late at night. Not because I am passionate about a subject, but because it feels like something to do. A way to avoid the vacuum of not knowing. But the thought lingers, do I really need another degree to qualify for jobs that still might not want me? And if I study again, do I specialise or generalise? Either way, it costs. In money, in time, in energy. And even with the privilege of not being under immediate financial pressure, the choice doesn’t feel free. It feels like stalling. Like building another bridge to nowhere.

So I wonder, should I just make something instead? Start that podcast I keep turning over in my mind. Put down the stories that live in my head, half-formed and whispering. Maybe even write a book. Or start a YouTube channel, and post whatever comes to me—my thoughts, my days, my strange, shapeless opinions. Just to feel like I am doing something that’s mine. But I also know myself. I know how often I begin things and never finish. How quickly excitement gives way to self-doubt. How hesitation sits heavier than ambition. And yet, the urge to create doesn’t go away. It lingers. It presses. Maybe that’s the only honest thing in all this confusion, the need to make something, even if I don’t yet know what it is or who it’s for. Maybe creation is the only way I know how to feel real again.

And in the background of all this sits the loudest question of all: “So, what are you doing now?” Everyone asks it. Family. Friends. Random people who once knew your name. It’s never malicious, just casually cruel. Because what do I say? “I am figuring it out”? How many times can you repeat that before it starts to sound like failure?

The unusual part is, I am not even sad. Not in the way people expect. I am not wallowing or falling apart. I am just... here. Suspended in this in-between. And somehow, that makes it harder to explain. Because how do you talk about being lost when you don’t look like you are falling? Or how do you explain to people who aren’t where you are?

I know I am not alone in this. Everyone I talk to is drifting in the same strange fog. Some are taking jobs they don’t want. Others are starting things they can’t finish. Some are just waiting. Hoping something gives. There’s no clear path anymore. Just parallel uncertainties.

But maybe that’s part of it. Maybe this waiting, this wandering, this uncomfortable in-between, maybe it’s not some grand failure or sign that I’ve lost my way. Maybe it’s just... part of the game. Not every level comes with instructions. Not every next move is obvious. Maybe you just keep moving and figure it out as you go.

So here I am: standing at the edge of the map, blinking cursor hovering over a hundred unopened tabs. No real quest. No guide. Just a screen full of possibilities and a vague sense of urgency.

What now?
Create something?
Apply again?
Rest?
Reinvent?

If this were a video game, maybe this is the part where I would hand the controller to you.

What would you do next?
Any side quests? Secret tunnels? Leads?
Because I am here.
Open world.
No roadmap.
Just… loading.

Your move.