Someone lied to me. I was led to believe that college would prepare me for life. I was told that that piece of paper that I worked so hard to obtain would open doors for me and allow me to get my foot in. It was conveyed to me that college would teach me life skills and that once I made it through the shit show of four years I would know how to live like an adult. And someone allowed me to believe that that someone else could hand me all of the answers. I trusted in an institution and I had faith in an organized approach with clearly outlined steps. I had to take certain classes to advance onto other ones, I was allowed to develop my own schedule and I squeezed in time at work whenever I could. I participated in an internship that humbled my ego and taught me the meaning of hard and unrewarding work. And I studied abroad to take in other cultures and learn a different way to approach life. I valued every learning experience I had during those four years and clung to them as i was told these experiences would get me through the rest of my life. But someone had lied to me — and although those years built a foundation of knowledge and experience, they were nothing in comparison to what experiencing life had to teach me.
These are the times that I live for. These are the moments that make life worth living. This is my time to shine. And this is my opportunity to accept life and make it my own. This must be what every twenty something feels like, and this must be the inspiration that moves a nation. This must be what gets people by. And this must be what everyone is waiting for. But the question remains, is that what I was looking for?
The dog from his past had returned to haunt him. He never really chose the company of this forced friend and when he arrived in his life he had no choice but to accept him. He always played nice enough with the annoying little dog, and treated him like the little brother he neither had nor wanted. Continue reading
He was raised in the usual manner that unwanted puppies are, with an abusive hand that silenced his instincts — or at least that’s what they thought thanks to the way he cowered at anything raised above a human’s head. He had some odd ticks about him and some old habits that were hard to shake. He was perpetually scared of vacuums, fly swatters, and raised voices. And although it was his instinct to run away from the face of danger, and to keep running for longer than necessary, there was a loyalty in him that toughed it out for the sake of his human. He had learned to trust him despite the lack of loyalty and love that he experienced in his puppy years. He learned that a raised object over his human’s head would not be thrown in his direction, and that vacuums are for cleaning up his shedding fur not to torture him. He learned that he just had to ask in order to be let outside and if he did not run away then he could be trusted to roam as he pleased. He slowly accepted the fact that “chase” was not a game his human enjoyed for hours around the neighborhood and that it was a more rewarding experience to stay close to his best friend’s side. And although it was in his nature to be fiercely loyal to his human, he learned to love others as well and accept them as temporary humans when his one and only had to go where he couldn’t. He somehow learned to trust that he would never be left behind and that his human would always return for him — because neither of them could live life without the other.
Mo could tell there was something different about his human lately. He was no longer leaving the house and he had began to disappear into video games as if he was hiding from real life. And as any loyal dog would, he stayed right by his human’s side and hid with him. It was almost as if he was tracking his human’s every move, which he did by instinct usually, but this time it was different. He could sense that something was off this time and was paying close attention to the person he cared most about in this world. Because when his human suffered, he could not help but suffer as well. Mo had witnessed his human in dark times in the past, but again, this time was different. There was a tone about it that invoked caution, not sympathy — because he was headed down a dangerous path of introversion. His tendencies to stay secluded, allow friends to come to him, and spontaneously take adventures as others presented them to him usually worked out for Mo. He was alright with staying dedicated to one human and leaving the rest to fend for themselves. He had grown attached to his human’s sister, but not in the same loyal way that he was with him. He would walk through fire and back to save the man he cared about most, and he was fully prepared to do so.