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 welcomed her home in a way that no other being could, and it was the fact that he was there to greet her that made her come home at all. Continue reading
For as long as Mo had known his human, he had worn the label of delinquent. In fact that label is what drove his human to meeting his four-legged best friend in the first place. Operating under the image of a convicted criminal he struggled to find work in the already competitive job market that characterized the overflowing college town. He had grown to expect that he would be rejected as soon as he had to check the box that he had been convicted of ‘drug’ paraphernalia possession. He was not alone in his paraphernalia possession in a town that was built on prostitution and smoked weed like it was a source of life, but he was alone in being caught by the law and used as an example for punishment. He did not look like a criminal and he did not stereotypically act like one, but he had been labeled as one and he could not shake the complex that accompanied it. Continue reading
He could see her struggling to keep track of who she is and not allow her new routine to cloud her perceptions. She had spent months with him living as they pleased and not caring about the influences of the outside world. They did not care about living what was considered a normal life style and instead momentarily lived one that suited each of their needs instead. Continue reading