The Necessity of a Split Personality

So the other day I was faced with a question: What am I going to do with my life?

Now people look at this and right away answer with what job they'd like to have in the future, but not me. I want to know--on the most basic level--what I am going to do with myself once I am out of the grasp of high school and unforgivingly tossed into the enigmatic excess of the world?
-----------------------------------------------

Note: this was written in installments, but nothing from the prior installments was deleted-- essentially a compilation of reflections over the course of a month.
-----------------------------------------------
I think when I started this thread, I meant to write some inspirational, verbose glarble (my favorite new word) about why writing is my passion--advocating following your dreams and blah and such.

I think I am genetically incapable of being so free-spirited to say you must always follow your heart and do what you dream of. There is a pragmatic part of me that I detest--that I want to destroy, so I can just make up my mind to pursue writing for the rest of my life and not agonize over the decision anymore. But I can't. Every time I raise those scissors to cut the singular thread holding me from attacking the future full-force, I think "Wait, what if I bust a bolt and fall apart? I'm being too indulgent. This 'dream' nonsense is just self-destructive behavior" And I can't stand it.

I think I ought to pose a different question, then: Why do I choose to Write?

---------------------------------------------
Pragmatism isn't so bad either, though. You kind of need it--not to keep you grounded or anything dumb like that. I mean tons of things can keep you grounded, such as anchors.

When you need a tangible victory--a prize, a win, some universal signal to the world that you have talents and those talents are of use, you need to take a practical approach.

It may not quite make sense at first, but I see it like this: Dreams (the glittery stuff that makes you feel weightless, rebellious, and possibly ashamed in front of your parents) are for personal victories. You decide your dreams early on, and build up your morals, goals and principles around them; when you dream, you validate your own worth. These fanciful wants and whims, goals and gaggles in the mind romanticize life, tinting our lenses slightly rosy. Emotion controls them.

But then we have that pesky problem with society. It is an unspoken social doctrine: success must be seen to be believed. Show that you have achieved something--anything--or change immediately.

Most people (myself included) don't like being told to change, and so we must find a way to satiate society enough so we can return to our inner lairs of wonderment, away from judging eyes. And so, we dreamers must be practical. We get our names in the paper here and there; we win a scholarship or two; we maintain good grades and decent reputations. We deem ourselves worthy to the world--this is the function of pragmatism: validating our worth to the outside. Pragmatism is the scientific, calculating part of us that knows limits and societal regulations (enough, at least, to maintain credibility).

But the number one thing, I've realized is that we cannot have one without the other. Without being pragmatic, you can't sustain a life built solely on dreams. On the flip side, without dreams, you are completely aimless, with no passions to pursue or reasons to be pragmatic.

I still don't know why I write. Maybe it's my calling; maybe I'm just full of myself. Perhaps I should just stop asking myself and enjoy it. (But I do believe in a bit of healthy self-psychoanalysis here and there.)

I write. I just do.