I don't know what I want
You're being asked, maybe by yourself, to know what you want, and the honest answer right now is that you don't. That isn't emptiness or a flaw; sometimes not knowing is just the quiet before something clarifies. You're allowed to sit in the question without rushing to an answer you don't have yet. Clarity tends to come from living, not from forcing — and you have more time than the panic says you do.
Read one, sit with it, and draw as many more as you need.
Lost
I don't know what I want
“Not knowing what you want isn't a character flaw. It often means you spent so long meeting other people's wants that your own went quiet.”
More comforting words for this feeling
“You don't have to summon your whole future tonight. You only have to notice, this once, what makes you lean in even slightly.”
“The question of what you want is allowed to be answered slowly, in pencil, with plenty of crossing out. No one's grading the draft.”
“Sometimes you can't hear what you want because too many shoulds are talking over it. Quiet them for a moment and listen for the smaller, truer voice.”