In another universe, I’m going to college to become a writer. I fall in love with the classes I take and the essays I write, so much so that they don’t even feel like work. After I graduate, I go on to utilize my newfound experience for whatever I end up creating. Perhaps I’m writing on my very own travel blog, or making a “choose your own adventure” book. Maybe I’m an indie video game developer drafting a storyline, or a scriptwriter at a small film production company. Whatever it may be, I know I would be doing something I love: writing has been my specialty and what I have become known for over the years. 

In this universe, however, I am forced to conform to the STEM-loving economy. Instead of living out my dream, I’m going to university for computer science instead because I hate all the other parts of STEM (science, technology, engineering, mathematics). And for the most part, I do have a plan drafted in my head. I’ll learn how to code (it’s kind of like writing, right?), make a bunch of “projects” (whatever that means in the industry), get a bunch of internships (because what do you mean it’s super competitive right now?), and get a remote job that immediately pays me 70k a year. No flaws whatsoever.

And for a while, I did feel satisfied with my decision to pursue STEM. When the highest paid and least regretted majors all fall under the STEM category, I would be a fool not to capitalize on what appears to be a safe bet. There’s nothing on my academic track record that made my counselor raise her eyebrows in doubt, and I didn’t hate AP Computer Science Principles either. If people with zero prior experience can take a couple online certification programs and secure a stable job, why can’t I with an actual college degree?

Everyone around me seemed to approve or even sound impressed, too. A year ago, I would get a “Oh, that’s cool!” from my classmates when I told them I wanted to pursue data analytics. Today, however, the responses have morphed into “Oh, good luck…” because as it turns out, everybody else had the same idea as me. Now, everybody sees computer science as a safe bet, which has resulted in “homeless CS major” memes popping up everywhere. 

This has led me to ask myself if ditching my true passion of writing is really worth it in the long run. The dozens of career path quizzes and assessments I’ve taken over the years have all pointed towards a creative job, and my ACT scores are hilariously skewed towards ELA compared to STEM. But society has painted the picture that my talent is not wanted—that I will be replaced by AI and I’m better off working a stable 9-5. Social media has painted the picture that liberal arts majors are “silly,” “soft,” and “easy,” which has made me avoid them on college websites out of fear of being judged. No matter how much I want to listen to those motivational speakers preaching “Follow your dreams!,” in my head, there is no denying that I will be more valued doing STEM than doing humanities. 

So, in this universe, I dream of a world where humanities and social sciences majors are just as respected, and aren’t written off as “coloring book homework majors.” I dream that my future home will have both my bachelor’s degree in computer science hung up on my wall and a copy of my published writing sitting on my desk. And, most importantly, I dream that society would collectively realize that the people who created the movies they watch, the books they read, and the video games they play are just as valuable as the medicine they take and the websites they browse on. Because while we need STEM to function, we need the arts to truly live.