26 Jul

In late 2009, I dropped out of all my college courses, left my job at the school library, and tasted alcohol for the first time. If I’m being completely honest here, I can’t say I enjoyed my job. I can’t say working, in general, is something in which I find even the slightest of pleasures. Ever. I told Mom it was sucking the soul out of me. She wanted me to continue working, so I stayed a month or two more until I couldn’t, and when I quit, she was okay. In October of that year, I went to school like I’d been doing all my life, and I tried my best to be interested in class. I liked my classmates and my teachers, and for a few months, everything was fine enough. But one night, after completing a tremendous amount of homework, I constructed a very poor essay and turned it in the next morning. As expected, I was called on it. In her office, Prof. McMeany said something along the lines of, “I know you are capable of much more than this,” something I assumed she said to every shipwreck. But she continued by saying that I should consider dropping her class if I wanted to maintain my GPA. I took this the worst way possible and left her office feeling terrible all over. I was sick, completely discouraged, and could think of nothing better to do than give up. Instead of dropping that one class, I dropped them all and took the rest of the semester off. Until then, I’d always been in school when I was supposed to. It was a big deal.
I told Mom and Dad I’d use my free time to write more. Maybe complete something I’d be confident enough to publish. I wrote a few lines of Gazebo, (which, by the way, I realize now is total rubbish. I hate it. I hate it so much, and I’m so embarrassed), but didn’t finish it until ten months later. Except for taking my first drink at twenty-two, I was not productive. I guess it wasn’t exactly soul-searching either, but I used the time away from the only life I’d known to steady myself, get a better footing, and reattach myself to my soul while the ride was not so violent.


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