Frustrated

Ventilation is all I need. I've been dying to study English in college since my freshman year. I don't think that's my dream anymore. I can write sufficiently, but I think I need something besides a mode of expression to be my focus for the next four years. If I'm given something I love to write about, I will eagerly plot my thoughts and expound, but give me Petrarch and all I've got are simple subject/verb agreements on his twisted ways. I feel like it isn't fair to my brain or my soul to leave other academic waters uncharted. Maybe I'll return to my first love, but I may never speak of words again.