I don't know

I'm not sure why I am writing. I've literally been writing all fucking day. I wrote an email to withdraw from classes and drop out of school. I wrote an incalculable amount of texts to my boss, my mother, a  friends. Looking for advice, quitting my job, getting invited to a retirement party, asking about a cross-continental adventure.
You know what? Life goes on. It will keep going on and it's not going to stop and wait for me to make a decision. No one is going to be effected if I leave... except me. I wanted this. I set this goal of getting a degree and I'm getting in my own way of that.
I have to stop expecting people to be decent human beings, decent parents, decent friends. They have no problem with how they are, why am I making it my problem?
Because I fucking care. Because I have a bleeding heart. Because I expect so much from myself.
So I started writing my report. Writing the emails that apologized for skipping out on class. Taking back my withdrawal. Writing the assignments that I stupidly didn't do because why should I if I'm going to give up on school?
And no one is going to care if I drop out of school.
No one except me.
And that thought right there... is a bit freeing.