Anxiety.
In the air, in conversations, in short "how are you - oh, God..."
A storm of small buzzing flies a meter above your head: they don't bite and they don't even irritate that much, unless you watch them.
But they are there, and this knowledge sucks you dry,
deprives sleep, prevents from working.
And you submit to it willingly, experimenting secretly with your own hurt/comfort relationship.

Fourth year. Graduates.
Young, determined people who know how to make impression and whose resumes would make a grown person cry.
A bunch of frightened kids, scared of becoming trapped in an executive sweat-shop or in an alien, yet socially respectable job.
Kids, most of whom have no idea what they want to do with their lives, so they go ahead and become certified accountants, marketers consultants or rush to grad schools.
And it is not bad at all - it's great, it's money, status, respect, happy marriage and 3 kids who won't have to go in debt to finance their education.

Why does Dave still feel trapped?
What is behind the bright facades of others? Who whisper quietly and embarrassingly "I don't know" when you ask the question?
Are they a minority, an exception?
Or did we all perfectly learn how to hide?

I don't. I know what I want to be and where. I have a history of decisions: England, Canada, Commerce... And I never regret them.
My choices are different from the typical. Okay, okay, somewhat different, a little different. But enough to make me happy and nervous about the future.
Because I have a lot to lose.