Maisah Mae

When we’re younger, we’re always asked the same question: What do you want to be when you grow up?
And the answer usually comes after a long pause, ending in some dream we saw on TV or read about in a book.

For me, it would say whatever came to mind first.
A vet. A singer. A doctor. A teacher. A dancer.

I honestly had no idea what I wanted.

But what if we had been asked a different question?
What if, instead of who we want to be, we were asked: How do you want to express yourself when you’re older?

That question changes everything.

It asks, What makes you feel fulfilled? instead of, What title can you give youtself to fit neatly into the world you were born into?

I’ve always found joy in creativity and self-expression; wanted to do everything, all at once, all the time.
And yet, somewhere along the way, we’re taught that this kind of thinking isn’t realistic. That we have to narrow ourselves down. That we have to choose.

The American education system, while necessary in so many ways, doesn’t always make space for that kind of exploration.
Children are often limited in how much they can participate, or how many “extra” classes than can take, all within the very place that’s supposed to help them discover themselves.

As a society, we’re meant to dabble. To explore. To fail and try again. To follow curiosity wherever it leads.

Because when we’re forced to choose too early, we’re not just choosing an activity, we’re choosing a version of ourselves.
And that choice can shape our entire future, whether we want it to or not.

We will never know our full potential if we don’t explore every avenue of our creative minds. To leave those possibilities untouched feels like a disservice to whoever made us this way.

So how are we supposed to know what we want to be if we’ve never been allowed to try everything we’ve ever wanted?

The truth is, you won’t ever fully know, and maybe that’s the point.

Maybe what makes life exciting is the fact that we will never know what’s truly around the corner.

You have to trust that the choices you’ve made have placed you somewhere meaningful. Somewhere that will grow into a life you enjoy, a life that feels like your own.

But it’s never too late to change your trajectory, no matter what anyone says or how they make you feel.

Take Whitney Leavitt. She moves toward every version of herself, Broadway, reality TV, dance, acting, business, without shrinking to fit one lane. She didn’t get there by avoiding the spotlight, but by refusing to let the weight of online criticism dim it. It’s something we should all aspire to be.

In a way, I feel like a hypocrite writing sentences like these because I don’t exactly practice what I preach.

I see influencers all over social media making videos to promote themselves, and I’ve never thought they were embarrassing or weird. I’ve viewed them as inspiring and motivational.

But why can’t I do the same thing I see my peers do? Why do I find it inspiring when others do it, but cringy and embarrassing when it’s me?

The answer is many things, but one of the main reasons is that failure has been ingrained into our minds at a young age to be shameful. It’s an outcome that becomes less explored as generations age. Though most people don’t realize that failure is where true growth and development is shown.

On SubwayTakes with Kareem Rahma, Austin Butler quotes a friend, “Embarrassment is an under explore emotion. Go out there and make a fool of yourself.“

So that’s what I’m going to do.

As we grow older, many of us stop exploring ourselves. We settle into careers we thought we wanted, convincing ourselves that this is our life. That this is who we are now.

But that doesn’t have to be the end of your story. It doesn’t have to be the only identity you’ll ever have.

We are allowed to become something new, again and again.
We are allowed to build a life that satisfies every part of us, not just the version we chose years ago.

It only takes one step to break out of the box we put ourselves in.

For the first twelve years of my life, I dedicated my life to soccer. I wanted to go pro, not because it was truly my dream, but because it was what I was good at and it was what everyone wanted for me.

Eventually, I broke away from that pressures people had put on me and dove into music because it was one of my true passions, a way for me to escape my own realities at home.

For a long time, I thought that was going to be my entire career.
I was going to work in the music industry; maybe at Universal Music Group, Sony Music Entertainment, or Warner Music Group. Or maybe I’d be an artist myself.

I trained for ten years. I gave up parties. I limited my social life. I filled every second of my time with rehearsals, performances, and preparation. My passion feuled my life and I was fulfilled, but something still lingered in the back of my mind.

I want more than this.
I want everything.

Singing wasn’t enough. Performing wasn’t enough.
I wanted to write songs and poetry. I wanted to dance, act, model, paint, draw, design, and build.

I didn’t want to choose just one way to exist.

But then comes the question everyone eventually asks:
How do you make a living doing all of that?

For most people, the answer is simple.
They choose what’s practical. What’s safe. Something stable enough to appease the people in their lives.

They pick a path, and they stay on it, never veering.

I know because that’s where I’ve been for two years now. Feeling stuck in 9-5 jobs because it was safe.

But there are others out there who push against that expectation.
People who refuse to be defined by one thing, and I’m trying to become that person myself.

And those people discover that there is so much more out there.

There are endless opportunities if you’re willing to believe in your vision, even when it doesn’t fit neatly into the
box you’ve created for yourself all these years.

That’s why I’m writing my debut novel, THE SOUND OF DROWNING: A romantasy series about a singer trapped in a military training camp who is thrown into a deadly tournament where survival depends on her squad, except they’re hiding secrets that could get her killed before her power ever manifests.

I started this project because I realized music wasn’t the only passion I wanted to pursue.
And being a musician didn’t have to be the only identity I carried.

I want to write about magic and world-ending love.
I want to create stories and write music inspired by those worlds.
I want my art to exist in multiple forms, all connected, all evolving.
I want to inspire people with everything I create and connect through common struggles.

It’s not as simple as saying, I want to be a writer.

When I grow up, I want to be an all-around artist capable of so many things, and accomplished in even more.

I want creativity to guide my life.
To take me somewhere I never could have planned.

And if there’s anything I hope people take from this, it’s this:

Don’t stop exploring.
Don’t stop changing.
Don’t stop reaching for something more.

There is beauty in becoming, and there is beauty in not having a final answer.

So maybe the goal isn’t to know who you want to be.
Maybe the goal is to never stop discovering it.

And I hope the next generation grows up without a single, definitive answer to that question.

Because that means their curiosity never died.